


Domination Centuries 2

by MishMish3000



Category: Draka Series - S. M. Stirling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 152,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishMish3000/pseuds/MishMish3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on an alternate ending to S. M. Stirling's Drakon, this is the second of three volumes in Domination Centuries. Follow Erin Kane as she manages to survive, adapt and maybe even thrive under the Domination of the Draka, in a world not too different from our own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> S. M. Stirling wrote most of the Draka point of view segments in this volume, and the Draka series as a whole is his creation. It's highly recommended as a dystopian alternative history.

Chapter 1

**  
The cool wind snaps through my hair, and I watch dolphins effortlessly leaping, keeping a body length ahead of the small yacht as we slash across the ocean. The intense salt-iodine-life aroma of the water washes over me like the waves as Gwen turns the ship into the wind, the deck slanting under my feet, white-caps reaching up. I yell with joy as the ship turns, slewing slightly, and the breeze hits us head on. The Ankh, a forty foot ketch, seems to gallop across the azure blue crests. I hear Gwen’s answering hawk-shriek, and shiver a bit, despite the sun beaming down.

Making my way carefully aft, I prop myself against a hatch near my muhmis, and watch her hair whip into a wind-tossed frenzy; her leaf-green eyes narrowing in excitement and exultant happiness as the ship responds to her commands so smoothly. I grin at her, the traces of salt on my face making it feel tight, hot. I lick my lips and taste the salt, and realize I’m thirsty. Muhmis, are you thirsty? I’m going below—want something? I send with my transducer, and smile up at her.

You, for one, her voice whispers in my head, but for now—a tall glass of lemonade would be divine. Thanks—and I get the blast of an image of the two of us, from last night, as she holds me upside down, my feet drumming helplessly against her shoulder blades, hair hanging down to brush the floor. I gasp, slightly, and know I’m beaming red like a beacon as I duck into the hatchway and go below decks.

Patrick’s daydreaming, leaning on a tanned, smoothly muscled set of arms, gazing out a porthole. His eyes are far away, with Alexandra on Mars, I think. I tap him lightly on the back, and he jumps galvanically. “Mom!” His aggrieved tone of voice tells me more than the obvious, and I grin. He’s definitely all teenager, just about to turn fourteen, and he acts that way sometimes. He’s also all man, at least in a physical sense, I think; I just disturbed a great fantasy…oops.

“You’re supposed to be finishing the navigation homework Muhmis gave you. When you’re done, and it’s right, she said you can steer…come on, why are you pouting?” I pour two glasses of lemonade, putting the crystal decanter back into the cooler, and pause before I go back up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Sullen. His head jerks up, and the dark, thick hair flows back from his face. His hazel green eyes are like mine, I realize; can’t hide much with those. “Nothing, Mom. Just thinking. I guess.”

“Well, hurry up and finish that problem. I did mine last night, y’know—I miss you up top. It’s really great out today,” I chuckle. I set my glass down, looking over his broad shoulder at the handcomp he has sitting before him. “Look, right here…get this value, and then plug it in the equation, like this…”

“Mama! I will, okay? I will. Say, this’s good,” Patrick says, as he downs half my lemonade. I laugh, ruffling his hair, and pour myself another glass. “Well, Mama, I’m surprised she let you have time to do homework last night…”

“Pat—that’s not exactly much of your beeswax, now is it?”

He looks up at me, with a level gaze. “I know, I know. But Alice was joking about it, before she left with Alexandra… you and her” his eyes flick upwards, “you guys spend one hell of a lot of time together, especially now we’re on vacation…”

“I’m her Councilor, darlin’; half the time you think we’re rattling the walls and breaking beds, we’re really just sitting around doing policy stuff, or government stuff, or Space Force stuff…lots of stuff, some of which is less than exciting to me. Like the Financial Committee meetings. Bo-ring! But it’s my job, honey, as well as…” I pause. “I like being around her. I’m getting used to her, after almost fifteen years, now... but why does it bother you?”

He sips more of the sweet drink. “I don’t know. It’s like she… she doesn’t share you.”

“But I go to all your games, and the plays you’ve written…I help you with those, doing editing and stuff… do you feel left out, Patrick, or is it something else? We’ve always had open communication, you and I. What’s up?”

“Nothing. It’s cool. You better take her the lemonade, before I drink all of it.” He turns back to his handcomp, and I get the feeling I’ve just been dismissed. I shrug, remembering how moody Peter could be. I don’t do too badly in that area myself sometimes, either, I think. Carrying the drinks back upstairs, I ponder Patrick’s behavior. It’s unlike him to be so… reticent about telling me what he’s thinking. Odd. Maybe it’s just an adolescent thing.

“Mmmhh…thanks,” Gwen says, gulping down the drink in one chug. “Good…that’s quite good. Tart, not too much; sweet…” She leans over and kisses me. “As you are, my sweet pony.”

I laugh, softly. “You always have that on the mind?”

“Almost always. Hard-wired.” She grins back, teeth startlingly white in her deeply tanned face. “Pat almost done?”

“He’s working on it. Doesn’t want help from his ole ma, though. Too big for that, y’know. He’s really turning into a teenager, the dread monster between the ages of 12 and 20…” I lean back against the railing, watching seagulls stitch the edges of the sky. “Will Alexa hit this too, or were your ancestors smart enough to engineer that out?”

“No…” Muhmis laughs, tossing her hair back. “No, they didn’t design it out. She’ll be touchy, a bit moody; horny as hell…but she’s already that. I thought Patrick as well as some of the other House saafn could use a break from her, for a week or so, which is one reason I sent her to Mars. The other reason was to let her do some shopping as part of her birthday present. Fourteen, already… in a week, anyway. Alice will certainly enjoy the visit, won’t she?”

“Oh, yeah…we’ll probably have to add another room onto our suite, when she gets back. Rosta’s feet will be worn to nothing with all the walking and shopping they’ll do. Power shopping…feh,” I shrug expressively. “Give me a day like this, anytime, over that.”

“And so today shall be your day, saafn mine. What would you like to do, and where?” Gwen puts the wheel over, slowly this time, and we curve into the sea, rainbows shining in the spray from the bow waves. She grins at me, and winks broadly. “Name your pleasure, missy…”

“Hmmm…put that way…” I slide an arm around her waist, and snuggle against the steel-strong body, the heat from her washing over me like a warm body rush. “But then again…perhaps later?” I glance down toward the hatch, as Patrick’s black hair peeks out. He ascends the ladder in two brief hops, and lands on the teak deck with a skip. I feel Gwen’s purr rumbling as she holds me lightly against her; her head rests on top of mine.

“What else would you like to do?” I hear amused indulgence in my muhmis’ tone, and smile in response. We know each other well now, after all this time.

“How about some snorkeling? I’d like to do some shelling, maybe, along the beach… maybe lunch in Nassau?”

Patrick looks over our way, wrinkles his nose slightly, and walks over to lean over the port side, holding a hand out to feel the spray. “Snorkeling sounds cool.”

“Well, then, my sweets, that’s what we’ll do. I know just the spot,” Gwen says, giving me a gentle pinch on the fanny. “Erin, go below and break out your gear, and remember the nets this time. Get me my spear gun, as well…” She sets the ship on a new course, and I scamper below.

**  
I look up and grin at the swordfish in the bows as the ketch noses into the Marina docks in Nassau Town. Patrick helped me in the hand-to-hand with that one, and it was a fighter; he got a scrape across the ribs. Delicious fish, too – raw, sliced thin, and with a little salt and lemon.

“Sailed on the sloop John B.  
Grandfather and me  
Around Nassau Town we did roam –”

Erin chimes in with the ancient song she taught me, and after a moment Patrick does as well; the snorkeling shook him out of his mood. He’s basically a sunny youngster. Turning out as handsome as his parents or more so, and perfectly conditioned. With those green eyes and the long black hair that falls to the small of his back he’s cutting a swath through the local human femininity; which says something for his stamina, considering how busy Alexa keeps him.

“Please leave me alooooone—  
I feel so shook up  
I just want to go home –”

The docks are bright with gulls, the light pastels of clothing, sails, polished brightwork. The water smells almost absurdly clean, compared to what it was like before the Arrival – there isn’t an internal combustion engine within a thousand miles, now, and every town has its own plasma-jet waste breakdown system. I could drink this water, and humans are swimming in it. Two slender figures are waving from the docks; then they dive into the water and eel towards us as the boat comes in at dead slow on soundless momentum-drive auxiliary, sails furled and wind thrumming through the standing rigging. Further offshore a platform is hovering four feet over the waves; there are sun-umbrellas on it, other bathers basking in the sunlight, or diving off into the crystal blue water.

“Hi, mom!” Ariadne says, erupting from the surface like a dolphin, catching the railing and swinging herself aboard, breathing deep and slow. She turns and gives May a hand up over the railing; the human is panting, but that’s very creditable time from the docks. Trying to keep up with a Draka tends to push humans to ten-tenths of their potential.

“Hi, tantie-ma Erin. Lo’, Pat,” my daughter says. She seizes Erin and plants a smacking kiss on her cheek; May hits the other side.

May also gives her half-brother a hug, and he retreats a little from it. The body-language is unusual enough – they’re very fond of each other – that I focus and really look at the my daughter and her saafn. Three months short of twelve, and very handsome young specimens of the Race and humanity, lithe and graceful with just a hint of coltishness. They perch side-by-side on the coaming over the cabin entrance, facing me at the wheel, the sun glistening on their wet skins. Ariadne’s hair is bright copper-red, May’s sun-faded tow; they’re an almost identical shade of tanned brown, and… 

I take their scents. That confirms the light dusting of hair that’s appeared at the base of their bellies, and the slightest beginnings of curves at hip and breast. I knew what was happening, of course, but I haven’t noticed this strongly before, or that they were so closely in synch. Uh-oh. Ariadne’s broadcasting pheromones without being aware of it – the surges around puberty are always a trial, to the child and everyone else too. And Erin’s going to have to give her daughter the sexual-duties-of-a-personal-saafn talk really soon or there won’t be any point in preparations.

Ariadne, I transmit over a closed link. Take your own scent, girl! 

Oh, sorry, I was just feeling… good. Glad to be out of school, you know.

So will all the humans be feeling good, if you don’t watch out – you’ve got a surge building there. That’s not fair to them. Remember the feedback training. Not to mention it’ll scramble your own brains if you’re not paying attention.

“OK, mom,” she says aloud.

A couple of laborers greet us, handing the girls their tunics and taking off the swordfish for the cooks at the Household over on Andros; an aircar can get it there in ten minutes. There’s no Security to speak of, thank the gods, just a Constabulary trooper in the background, making a respectful salute. We walk up from the waterfront, Erin sandwiched between her daughter and the child she bore for me, listening to their school gossip – Ariadne has just finished Junior Section this spring. Formally May was there as her servant, but of course that meant going through most of the same process, apart from the physical parts beyond her capacities; I want her to have a first-rate education. Transducers and downloads can handle most transfer of raw information; the educational setting is for discussion and comprehension, and of course the social aspects. The school’s not far away at all, on Grand Abacos.

We walk up Frederic to Marlborough Street, and then over to Blue Hill Road where Greycliff is located. Draka are a common enough site in Nassau Town; several dozen live here, what with the school and the IngolfTech labs, which I’ve kept on and developed as part of the Archonate’s Technical Directorate. The humans there have made some surprising contributions… I’m familiar here too, and there’s none of the milling and pointing that there would be if the planetary Archon were to stroll around a major city. Just respectful bows, and waves to the humans, smiles for my daughter. Electrobikes zip by on the roads, with a cheerful heralding of bells; an occasional floater goes by above.

The staff at Greycliff greet us, and show the party to a table outside on the terrace, with a view of Government House’ roof, and the quite sweet-scented flowers along the base of the wall, bougainvillea like a shower of crimson, hibiscus… Right after the Arrival I loaned the chef here enough to buy out the company that owned the place, on condition they always keep a table for me. I’ve never regretted it.

“London broil, salad, steamed vegetables, a bottle of the Merlot,” I say, eating a few rolls to start with.

Transmission, my transducer alerts me. There aren’t many codes that will get through to me at lunch, and I screen it immediately. Not an emergency, I think, relaxing. But…

“Erin, Patrick,” I say. “Message for you. Everyone link.”

The pickup is on a balcony; I recognize it, the new Mariott in Marsdome. This won’t be a conversation; there’s too much time-lag. The sky behind is blueish-pink, and the horizon closer than on earth. It’s a bit eerie sometimes, seeing Alexa now; she’s starting to look the way I remember myself from my teenage years… But no, I think. The body language is different. She’s… more relaxed than I ever was. I had a happy enough childhood, but there were… tensions around Tantie-Ma Marya and Yolande that were never there for Alexa. Fourteen, just fully entering into her inheritance, out to seize life and the universe with both hands…

“Hiyo, mom! Tantie-ma, sproutlings – here we are in beautiful downtown Marsdome.” 

She turns and waves, at a city of low-rise buildings of reddish sandstone picked out with tile. It’s grown fantastically in the nine years since its founding, far faster than the equivalents did in the Prime Line’s history, but then it has advantages – unlimited cargo-carrying capacity, for one.

“There’s nothing left in the stores, because Tantie-Ma Alice here has bought it all. We’re sending for two heavy cargo craft to get it home – the drive ripped out of the yacht when we tried to lift.”

Alice is laughing. “Hello, muhmis dear, Erin-love, Pat, missy Ari, May. I’ve gotten some very nice things and they’re mostly compact. If this imp of Satan weren’t an Overlord I’d accuse her of teasing. They’ve got some lovely semiprecious stones here that are out of the world – literally.”

Another figure steps into the viewer. Vicki, Alexa’s saafn; she’s wearing a sarong and a flower wreath, and her smile is brilliant against the chocolate-brown prettiness of her face. 

“Hi, y’all.” Her voice has never lost the Kentucky accent; well, we’ve spent a lot of time at Gwendolyn Hall over the years. “Pat, boyfriend, we’re missing you.” She grins wickedly, and she and Alexa smooch the pickup – a startling close up of two pairs of lips. Everyone at the table is laughing, and so is Alice in the background. “Can’t wait to get back to you… and if we don’t soon, I’ll be wasted away to a wraith. Eeeek!”

She jumps aside, and Alex’s green eyes fill the screen. I can feel the flow of a private transmission just below the surface of my consciousness, and Pat blushes under his tan, grinning.

“Anyway,” she says aloud, “The Stormbringer handles like a dream. The AI and Cap’n Harkness said I conned her perfectly. C’mon, my sweet thang, get that qualification and we’ll take her out to the moons of Jupiter. Oh, and maybe I’ll let Ari polish the hull, if she’s very good.” 

Alice chimes in: “We’ll be leaving Mars tomorrow – we’ve seen all the sights, the Marineris Canyon, skiied Olympus Mons, seen the polar cap, had the guided tour of the terraforming headquarters, done Barsoom City –” a Disney project, and bemusing to the Draka; the humans love it, though “—and we’re longing for the fleshpots of earth. Say hi to Jenny for me, and see you all on Tuesday.”


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2

The weights clank down softly as I finish the set, and I sit up, stretching. Man, that burn feels good, I think to myself, looking in the mirror. My arms bulge slightly, and the sit ups have definitely smoothed my abs. Not bad for a fifteen year old human, eh? I grin to myself. Then look down. Ooops. Glad no one else’s in the gym. An irrepressibly horny fifteen year old guy’s grinning at me in the mirror. I need a cold shower, and bad…

After the shower, I wrap a terrycloth robe around me and pad back into the gym, picking up my clothes as I go. Mama always insists that I do that, and it bugs the hell out of me. But I do it, anyway, even though the servants are supposed to. There are some perks associated with being the personal saafn of Alexandra Ingolfsson, Mama, I think crossly. Why can’t I enjoy all of them?

I smell better now, although my sweat doesn’t stink, I muse; but clean is better, I guess. I drop the soggy workout clothes into the hamper in the dressing room, and get back into my regular tunic and shorts. I like the blue and gold colors, and the Archonal fist is cool. I pull the tunic over my head in one movement, and jump into my shorts. Sandals next—I wonder if the fish we caught is ready for dinner yet? I’m starving.

The path to the main House here on Andros is shaded by swaying palm trees; the pine needle mulch underfoot is fragrant with wood scent. Over everything is the tang of the ocean, something that’s always stirred a longing in me, some kind of feeling like I want to go somewhere, an adventure. I wish I could be a hobbit, or one of those cool elves in the Lord of the Rings. Or Strider. I’d show that Dark Lord a thing or two. Give me a sword, and I’d… I pick up a handy branch, the length of my arm, and begin slashing, parrying invisible opponents, whirling… “Ha! Take that, orc! Want some, you Nazgul? Here…”

“Oho…a swordsman,” chuckles a velvety bronze voice, and I freeze, feeling my face redden. Muhmis stands, leaning against a palm, hands in pockets of khaki trousers, her long red hair falling over a shoulder. Her white linen top seems startlingly bright under the shade, and I feel warmed by her grin.

“Um…” I dig a toe into the mulch, “sword” behind me.

“Your reflexes are quite good, Patrick. Would you seriously like to learn some patterns with a real sword?” She walks up to me and smoothes my hair back from my forehead with a finger. I tremble, not wanting to show how much she affects me. It’s not fair! Hell, all I have to do is be around a girl, or even a couple of the House guys, and then things happen…

“Um…yeah. I mean, yes, Muhmis, that would be boss.” My voice squeaks on the last word, and I blush even more.

Another dulcet chuckle. “Good. I’ll be glad to show you some moves. Speaking of… You are becoming quite the little stallion, aren’t you, my boy?” Her hand reaches down and cups me, and I jump, my mouth opening and closing.

Oh, gods, can it be? I mean, Alexa and I have played a lot, and had fun, but her? Oh, jeezie petes… what do I do? I feel my body hardening under her hand, and look up into green eyes, alight with amusement and arousal. “Uh…muhmis? I… that is…I, um…”

Her lips come down on mine, and I feel her leg behind me, tripping us backwards, onto the soft covering of the path. Muhmis’ weight comes down on me, so heavy; her body moving, driving me wild with desire… her tongue probes my mouth, and I respond readily, remembering kissing Alexa…

I stop, suddenly aware I’m making out like a mad mink with my owner’s mother…her mother, for god’s sake…Muhmis looks down at me, a slight frown on her tanned face. “What’s wrong, pretty buck?”

“Um…” Uh-oh, I think. My body has had a reaction all its own. Damn… “Muhmis…sorry…”

She thrusts with her hips, testing, and then throws her head back, laughing. Her voice rings through the palm grove, and thrills my heart, too. Like Elvin trumpets or something, ringing through Mirkwood. “Ah, poor Patrick. A little too quick, hmm? That’s all right, my pretty buck. There are other ways to please me. I’m sure Alexa wouldn’t mind,” she murmurs, tonguing my ear. I shiver with delight. She moves so that she’s standing above me, and steps out of the khaki pants, and her undergarment. 

I look up, with wonderment, as she straddles me, knees on either side of my head. Her fingers link behind my head, and I’m brought up to meet her coming down. “Ready to be a sweet pony, Patrick? I think so…ahhh…” She arches above me as I go to work, enveloped by her scent, her arousal, my growing hard on. Oh, gods, she’s stronger than Alexa…can I keep up? : the last coherent thought I have for quite some time.

The shadows are longer by the palms when she lets me rise from her; we’ve been doing the frisky for what seems like hours. I’m exhausted…I really, really hope Michelle in the kitchen doesn’t remember we have a date tonight. I don’t feel up to it. I sit, naked as the day I was born, on the path, watching Muhmis. She grins at me, chucks me affectionately under the chin, and nods toward our clothes. “Dress me, sweet boy.”

I scramble to obey, hearing the command in her voice. Some tiny part of me growls at that, and I shush it, like I’ve learned to do. It doesn’t make it go away, though. It’s just hidden. I hope it doesn’t ever just pop out. That could be… icky. I dress Muhmis, and then myself, as she watches, occasionally smiling. Her leaf green eyes seem to be mesmerizing; I could stare into them for days, I think, as I tug my tunic back on. 

“Turn around, dear boy…” I do so, and feel her brushing her hands through my hair, down my back. “There…now you won’t carry half the path back with you. Ready for dinner?”

“Oh, am I ever, Muhmis,” I laugh and she joins me. Arm in arm, we walk up the path towards the House. The crepe myrtle trees are blossoming, and their perfume seems to float on ahead of us as we go. The sky’s getting darker now, cobalt blue, and the sun’s getting ready to set along the western beaches. We pause, as the sun goes, impossibly fast, below the horizon. The twilight descends, and as she and I walk up the back stairs to the House, I can smell the swordfish, grilling; my mouth waters.

**  
The sky’s black now, except for the panoply of stars above…I sigh and lean back in the lounger. Homework’s done, finally, even though Mama had to help me with the last four problems. At least she doesn’t snicker at me like Alexa does sometimes. That’s embarrassing. I’ll get this navigation thing down, soon, too. I like the math involved, but I hate having to spend the time doing the stupid homework problems. Oh, well, into each life some homework must fall.

I can’t believe this afternoon happened. I had sort of fantasized about it, but never thought she’d mount me… I figured I was Alexa’s. She wears me out enough as it is; I hope to all the gods above and below that both of them don’t start after me. I grin, slightly, and stretch tired muscles. I wonder what all that talk was tonight, over dinner?

Mama, being one of Muhmis Gwen’s Councilors, does a lot of different things for her. I like following her around sometimes, watching Mama at work. She has some way of getting everybody to work together, like a football team or something. I think she really likes that. But they got into some deep discussion about the Samos, tonight, which is rare. I wonder what Samos are really like? I mean, I’ve seen the educational tapes on them in school now, but I wonder what they’re like in person. Mama was so surprised over some offer that they’ve made, and I think Muhmis Gwen was, too. They ended up using a private link on their transducers; I wince, remembering the twinge of warning pain I got when I tried to break in and listen. Teach me to do that again… or at least I’ll learn how to do it and not get caught. There must be a way…

“Pat?” Ariadne’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I turn my head, looking toward her voice in the night.

“Yeah, squirt?”

“Hey, you’re supposed to call me Missy Ariadne.” She comes to stand next to me, fists on hips. I need to remember she’s hitting those uneven teen years, I think, and smile, inwardly—I’m in those damn years, too, y’know.

“Yeah, yeah…in public, squirt. What’d you want, Ariadne?”

“Are you grumpy tonight?”

“No. Why?” I sit up, looking her full in the face. Her eyes glint as the lights from the House hit them.

“I wondered if you’d come play Dungeon Keep with me before bed. Please? Tantie-ma Erin said okay, if you said okay. Say it, Pat!”

“Okay!” I get up off the lounger and take her hand, and we walk up the stairs, into the house. “Got the program set up?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s all ready. I want to be an elf. What are you gonna be?”

“I think…” I pause, thinking. What do I want to be? “I’ll be a human this time… come on, let’s go find some treasure!”

**  
“You what?” Alexa laughs, after a six-second lag; they’re closer now, but not within Luna’s orbit. Space travel within the solar system is surprisingly fast, when you can boost at a steady 1G. An hour to Luna, two days to Mars with the planets in their present positions.

“Had your Patrick,” I say over the holo. It’s sending from her stateroom on the Archonal space-yacht; she’s lying on the bed while Vicki massages her back. “I hope you don’t mind; it was an impulse.”

Her eyes narrow for a moment, instinctively testing if this is a status matter; I let mine shift, ever so slightly, smiling to myself. My little girl is growing up.

“Well… no, but it would be sort of nice if you asked me first,” she says. “He’s mine, after all. I’ll be home in the morning. And I had plans for Pat.”

“It’s rechargeable,” I say, winking broadly. “I was just curious; I will ask you first if I ever want to ride him again – word of honor. You might want to put a don’t-touch code on his transducer, though. He’s old enough now, and he’s quite pretty.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alexa grins. Vicki closes her eyes, smiles, and makes a mmmm-hhhmmm sound, then chuckles. “I’ll do that first thing,” Alexa says. “Vicki, too… there, it’s done.” She closes her eyes for a second. “There, relaying to EarthNet to put it on Pat’s.”

“I take it Stormbringer is shaping well?” I go on. First memet-hulled ship built on Earth/2… built at Moonbase Alpha, actually.

“Like a dream, Mom – utterly boss, I tell you soothly.” 

I hide another chuckle. Picking up the local teenage slang. Well, she is a local teenager – sometimes I’m a little startled at how different the younger generation here are from their counterparts on the Prime Line. Very Draka, but with a different… accent. Well, we may not be as variable as humans, but our upbringing does affect us.

“How’s things been going Archon-wise?” she says.

“I’ve had some rather intriguing news from Alexis,” I say. “The negotiations with the Samothracians have taken a new turn; either they’re going to break down completely, or we may have a genuine long-term agreement. It all depends on how we react, and he wants a conference of the Archons to go over it.”

“Wish we could just conquer them,” she says, scowling.

“Hey,” Vicki cuts in, with a slap between her shoulder-blades. “Cut it with the tension! I might as well be rubbing coconut oil into Mount Rushmore.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Alexa says, relaxing.

“I wish we could too,” I say. “But it’s no go. With the moleholes, we’ve got plasma-guns to each other’s heads.” Not so much invasions by fleets, but throwing through asteroids punched up to relativistic velocities. One wouldn’t be a problem, but a shower could be very nasty. “I’ll give you a briefing on it when you get back, if you’re interested in anything but wearing Pat to a nub.”

“After that,” she says. “Got to have a sense of priorities.”

“Service, Alexa.”

“Glory, Mom.” 

She pulls Vicki down beside her and cuts the transmission; I sigh and shake my head. And that reminds me. 

Ariadne?

Hi, mom! Just got killed out of the game, dammit. Bunch of orcs jumped me.

Then come on down.

I pour myself another VSOP Cognac and then a second glass. My younger daughter – well, Kleo is six days younger, but she’s being raised by Tamar and she’s taking the Rohm name – comes in; her scent still has a gingery-salt tang from the excitement of the game, almost like fight-aggression but without the same hard dangerous edge, and her copper-blond hair is bristling. Ariadne looks startled when I hand her the brandy, then smiles as she realizes she’s being treated like an adult. Which she isn’t, not yet, but she’s not quite a child any more.

“Take a seat, my heart,” I say. “We’re going to have a little talk.”

“Uh… sure, Mom.” She sits across from me; the study has French doors like most of the personal suite on the third floor of the Andros house, but they’re broken up by blocks of bookcases and paintings.

“I’ve been thinking about yesterday,” I say. “That pheromone surge.”

“Um, like, I’m sorry,” she flushes, looking surly and abashed at the same time. “I’ve been keeping it under control, really. Mostly.”

I smile and nod; she’s been trying hard… although a minor snit last week had her panicking a whole street in Nassau with a blast of aggression-terror. 

“You’re not here to get a dressing-down, Ari,” I say gently. “I’ve just realized that you’re maturing fast and there are a few things we have to get straight. You’re starting to get interested in sex, aren’t you?”

She flushes bright red, turning her tan a bronze color, and looks aside. “Ummm… yeah. Sort of. Just thinking about it, mostly. A lot more often in the last month or two.”

“Perfectly natural,” I soothe. “I take it you haven’t mounted May yet?”

“No!” She takes a deep breath and forces relaxation on her body; I nod approvingly at her control. “Well, I… I sort of kissed her the other day. She liked it,” she adds defensively. “I was the one who stopped.”

“At a guess, because she’d have been happy just to liplock half the night, and you were thinking about riding the pony,” I say.

“Yeah… well, I felt sort of mixed up about it. I like May, more than anyone – anyone my age – but all of a sudden it was like I wanted to… to, I don’t know, grab her, squeeze her…”

“Ari, that’s all right,” I say. “You own her, you have a perfect right to take her for pleasure. You’re very close, so I’d be surprised if you didn’t start with her. There are certain things you should remember, though.”

“Well, Mom, I did take the usual courses,” she says, rolling her eyes slightly. “You know, downloads, lectures, holos, the whole nine yards.”

“That’s theory,” I say, and hold her eyes. “This is you.”

She nods. “Yup,” she admits. “It all seemed so… theoretical. ‘Till now. OK, enlighten poor little me.” I wag a finger, and she grins and spreads her hands. “No, just kidding – I really am listening. I want to… to do the right thing.”

“First, you have to remember that humans develop a bit differently. You’re getting the first trickle of libido now; it’s going to hit you like a ton of cement over the next couple of months. It never goes away, but you learn to deal with it; that takes time, though. Humans – particularly females – develop more… gradually, especially right after menarche. You can compel desire with the pheromones, her receptors will be open now, but it wouldn’t be good for May if you tried to make her take the full brunt of satisfying you. An adult couldn’t, and for her it would be far too… stressful.”

“Ummm… yeah, I see your point,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to hurt May; we’re buddies. Besides, she’s Tantie-ma’s daughter.”

I nod; that was one reason I wanted them raised together, for her to develop empathy with her saafn. And she loves Alice and Erin both.

“Be very gentle with May,” I say. “Firm – it’s her duty to serve you -- but gentle. Court her a little; take things slowly, make sure she’s comfortable with what you’re asking of her. That’ll be important to your long-term relationship with her; you’re not children any more, but there’s no reason you can’t stay close. Even closer, come to that, and there’s no greater fun in bed and out than a saafn who’s really devoted to you. But that means you have to think about them, too.”

Ariadne nods slowly. I go on: “Being considerate is a lot easier when you’re not screaming with lust, of course, so you’re going to need other outlets. You’ll have the run of the Household and estate saafn, whenever the impulse takes you, that goes without saying.” 

In theory, anyone who doesn’t have a hands-off marker on their transducer… and Alice and Erin, of course, that would be too much like incest. 

“And unclaimed humans, come to that. But you should have a few more of your own. Your birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks; think about it. I’ll be giving you two; Christina Bengitsson, and Hans Singh, but there are others if you’ve got any objections.”

Christina is my herd-manager’s daughter on the estate in Kentucky, and Hans is the grandson of my tame physicist from before the Arrival. Both intelligent and sensible, and they’ve been around Ariadne since her birth, if not as closely as May. A good career move for them both, too.

“Hmmm… Christina’s fifteen,” Ariadne points out.

“Yes, she is; and Hans will be in six months,” I say. “You’ve got to learn to dominate adult humans, you know – ones you weren’t hand-raised with. Breaking them in will be good practice; and being a little older will be a positive advantage when it comes to using them for pleasure. Train them to suit you. They’ll be useful for other things as well; they’re bright and well-educated.”

Ari’s eyes light slightly; she’s a sweet-natured girl, but Draka to the core. A challenge is irresistible. In a year or two she’ll probably have a lover at school, as well; but that I can leave to her own good judgment and her peer-group. A quick hug, and she’s gone…

I sigh and finish my brandy, and call to the kitchens for a snack. Erin comes in and joins me as the houseboy leaves.

“Well, how’d it go?” she says, nibbling at some antipasto and taking a glass of the white wine. It’s from Gwendolyn Hall; the vineyard there is turning out quite drinkable stuff now. Gods know, it was a struggle.

“Well enough,” I say, taking a roll of smoked ham and melon. “She’s a good-hearted youngster, even if she’s getting a bit moody – only to be expected— and she really cares for May. Now you have to have your little chat with May. Don’t delay or it’ll be ex-post-facto. Tomorrow morning would be a good idea.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Part of being a parent, I guess. Alice and I’ll gang up on her.” A slight wince. “We did for Ruthann, a long time ago…” She shakes off the memory and changes the subject: “Have you been thinking about the treaty proposals?”

“Trying not to, with this family stuff on my platter,” I say, crunching an olive. Erin always winces a little when I do that. “The conference is in a month; I’m going to take a few days to let my subconscious mull it over, then start consulting with my Councilors – you , Tom, Dianne, Jennifer— and some selected Directors… Tamar, Gunnar, a few others.”

She nods. “It certainly needs careful consideration,” she says. “I’m still a little shaken by the implications.”

**  
I brush the dark blonde bang from my eyes, and look over at Gwen, sitting in her tall-backed leather chair. The fire glowing in front of us feels good; the night air on Andros can get downright chilly at times. “I’m still not sure what to think, Muhmis…”

“It is surprising, isn’t it? The Samothracians wanting to open emigration to Samothrace, for select humans here on Earth/2, and some from Earth/3… I was even more surprised that Alexis didn’t reject that at the start. That in itself is surprising. But the détente is important to maintain, especially now, Erin. You know that…” Her leaf green eyes stare into the embers, and I see the flames reflected in her gaze.

“Yes… I know. With the Space Force getting ready to expand beyond Mars and the Moon here… and maybe to Mars on Earth/3, we can’t afford an all-out war, or even the occasional incident. That would be painful. But… I don’t know. Even their insistence on being able to pick and choose among the applicants. That’s sort of distasteful to me. But then again, so are the Samos… ” I shake my head. “Is it really ‘freedom’ they’re offering?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not according to your cultural definitions. Their militants were probably sure we’d reject the offer, giving them ammunition… and politically speaking, they have everything to gain and nothing to lose by offering. They’re certainly going to exert control over who is accepted, though. Their culture has evolved into a very, hmmm…how would you say it? A very ‘white bread’ culture… they don’t want a lot of variety, that’s for sure. And they want to make damn sure we’re not sending agents, moles, sleepers…”

I look over at her, considering. “But with the technology both groups have, wouldn’t picking them out be easy? I guess they don’t want a lot of minorities to apply, just like it was in the Prime Line, when they left before…I guess nonconformists and such wouldn’t fit in to their idea of a happy little country.”

“Correct.”

“Is the Council going to authorize it? The emigration, that is?”

Gwen stands, stretching. “As far as I can determine, having polled a few people I know, it seems likely. Another task for us to set up, Erin. But we have time; time to think, time to plan. And speaking of time, are you ready for bed?”

I grin, feeling the blush creep up my throat. “Yes, Muhmis…” Hand in hand we walk from the library, up the stairs, to her bedroom. 

**  
“Remember that first time, when I carried you in?” I say, sweeping her up in my arms at the entrance to the suite.

“Oh, yes,” she replies, nibbling at my neck.

A cat flees, cursing “bad… bad…” as I toss Erin down on the bed; a descendant of those Persians Alexis gave Ariadne… gods, it’s almost twelve years ago now.

“Time flies,” I say; I shuck out of my robe and leap onto the bed over her, sink down, crush her lips under mine, let my weight press her into the softness of the mattress. She squirms beneath me, gasping to catch her breath, quivering, arching up against me.

I run my fingers into her shirt while I kiss her, then tense them and rip. Buttons pop and fabric shreds like paper. Two swift jerks and she’s naked to the waist. 

“You’re in an emphatic mood tonight, aren’t you?” she says, breathless. 

I nod, and move my fingers inside the waistband of her khaki shorts, waiting a moment with our eyes locked. Then I begin to pull, steadily increasing the power as my forearms tense and her hips come up off the bed. The tough cotton twill rips suddenly; Erin squeaks as she falls back and I sweep the torn cloth up each leg and away.

“I am,” I say, wolf-grinning down at her. “I’m feeling… energized. And how are you feeling, my sweet pony, my lovely mount?”

My hands grip her and squeeze; hers caress mine as I knead her. She looks good enough to devour; tanned and fit, and her scent mingles excitement and just a slight tang of apprehension. Goosebumps ripple the skin under my hands; she arches and mews as they move and probe. She knows my moods very well by now.

“Umm, how do I feel? Umm… horny… completely helpless… like I’m about to get my brains fucked out…” she says, panting a little through her answering smile.

“That for starters,” I say, and my lips curl back in a growl of anticipation; I feel like a furnace is burning in my loins and belly, making me glow like a statue of red-hot bronze fresh from the casting. “Buck for muhmis, pony. You’ve got a long hard night’s work ahead of you. First, let’s hear you whinny.” My hands move with ruthless precision

“nnnnnhh -- !”

**  
Jennifer looks over to me, over the rim of her coffee cup. “This scheme of yours has actually been working quite well, old girl.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve always had a talent for organization…” I smile back, through a yawn, and look over the chain of command schematic with my transducer. The forms seem to hang in the air just in front of me, as if I could reach out and touch them. It takes some getting used to, but with all the work I’ve been doing for Gwen over the last decade or so, I’ve grown accustomed to it.

Colored lines pulse in the air, connecting the different units. The Space Force Executive Council, composed of ex-military and civilian, half and half, overseen by a Draka Legate, is the top box, or unit. Under it are the various subgroupings we’ve found, over trial and error, that work the best. Decentralized, yet with a clear command line, the Force has become quite useful.

Holopics of the unit commanders float next to their commands. I modeled the higher commands on the old plan of administration (g-1), security (g-2), training (g-3) and supply and logistics (g-4) groupings of the American military. Each commander here is in charge of what almost amounts to a fleet admiralty command, I think. I hope they can all handle it. In addition to the staffers, there are the terraforming and strike force commands. They’re much more closely supervised by the Draka Legate; she’s attached merarchs to oversee each of the two more active commands. Their images float behind the units, reminding me visually of their constant supervision.

“Kleinberg and Holst seem to be working out well as the commanders,” Jennifer points out, munching a bagel. This is a working breakfast, I remember, and butter a biscuit that’s almost too hot to hold. Juggling it back and forth between my hands, inhaling the fresh baked scent, and the coffee aroma, I nod. Jenny’s pointing, in our minds, at the two pictures next to Terraforming Command and Strike Force Command. Serious faces, a woman and a man, look out at us, eyes level and almost challenging.

“Yeah, I’m glad. I figured Holst would, since she’s a former U. S. Army brigadier general, but Kleinberg was more of a guess. A hope—he’s an ex-Israeli paratrooper general, and more of a wild card than Holst is. But he’s taken to it like a duck to water, that’s for sure. The nucleus of his training groups helps, too—they’re all either U. S. Special Forces or British SAS types. Formerly, that is. I did have to crack down on him that once, with the bad publicity about the training deaths…”

Diane joins us. “Oh, Kleinberg? We settled him down, didn’t we, Erin?” She’s loading her plate with grits, scrambled eggs, toast…

“Yep. Once he figured out we weren’t just ‘bleeding heart’ types…” I grin. Popping the last of the biscuit into my mouth, I reach for the plate of fruit.

“Mmmm-mmmh… look at that bite mark, will ya?” Jenny laughs, pointing to my collarbone. I try to close my shirt over, covering the slight bow-shaped bruise, redder than my tan, and Diane plucks the shirt from my fingers, peering inside. 

“Not the only one, either…you had an exciting night, now didn’t you, missy?” Her flashing eyes look down on me, and her grin spreads to my face. I turn crimson, but join her and Jenny in peals of laughter just as Muhmis walks in with Ariadne and May in tow.

“Morning, all,” Gwen gets out, before we all crack up completely, much to her surprise. The girls look at us in wonderment—will grownups ever stop being so weird?—and Gwen comes to stand behind me. Her hands stroke my shoulders, and then she notices the bite marks, too. “Oho, I see, now… sorry ‘bout that, sweet. Got a little carried away last night, didn’t we, pretty pony?”

“Mama,” chorus two voices as eyes roll heavenward. “Eeeuuwww…”

This time, all adults, Draka and human alike, laugh out loud, into the bright sunny morning of Andros Island.

**  
Stormbringer is set to a truncated, round-bottomed cone as Earth Control clears us for reentry. I’m in the pilot’s couch, my eyes closed. 

But how much more I can see! My transducer feeds me input from the ship, and I see/feel as the tenuous wisps of atmosphere buffet at us; I am the ship as I key in thrust to compensate. Below me Earth turns like a giant shield of blue and white, edged with fire where air is beginning to turn incandescent as it resists our passage. Weight grows on me as I vector in more thrust, building to 1.2 G – I could take far more, but there are humans and servus aboard…

Exultant, I give a long shout as we streak in a curving arc across Eurasia and out over the Atlantic. Lower now, and the black translucence of space is fading, stars dropping out around the growing circle of the horizon and then overhead as blue grows. Across the terminator, and into bright sunlight.

Airspeed approaching subsonic, the ship prompts. Fifty thousand feet below me the ocean is a mirror of hammered metal. 

Initiate, I command.

I feel the change, as if my body were flowing and changing itself. The cone becomes a wedge, flipping smoothly over into aerodynamic shape. 

Nose transparent, I command. Manual.

I open my eyes, squinting a little in the brightness. Everything but the deck beneath me and the bulkhead behind has vanished, only the lack of air-movement to show that there’s an inch of indestructible memet between me and the rush of thin cold air. Captain Harkness beside me is keeping his eyes closed, still in link and checking on me. I don’t mind, much. It’s his job.

“Eastern North America Control,” I say. “Stormbringer here. Clearance for approach to Andros Island; course follows.”

I transmit the flight path, and the Atmospheric Control receives it. “You are cleared and have priority, Stormbringer. Over.”

“Thank you, ENAAC,” I say. “Have a nice day.” 

Mother insists on politeness to saafn, and I haven’t made their day any easier. I laugh to myself as I imagine passenger craft and cargo floaters scuttling out of my way… a bit tempting to bring her in on a screaming maximum-speed trajectory, like a weapons platform in the old days. But mother would nail my hide to a barn door. I love mother, but she scares me, bonzer struth.

Instead I bank the great craft in a long slow turn over Andros; there’s only the sound of cloven air in a fusion-powered momentum-transfer ship, but three thousand tons cleaves a lot of air. Then I turn and make my approach from the east, passing to the open space where the yacht can land; I reconfigure it to an oblong brick and bring her down. There’s a last crunch as the surface beneath transfers weight to the coral rock, and we’re home.

“Home!” I say. “Home and beauty, everyone!” 

Harkness smiles and nods. “Interesting… training flight, uhmis Ingolfsson,” he says politely.

“You mean, interesting flying with a cloned teenage Draka lunatic, Captain Harkness,” I say. 

He’s a fortysomething human – that’s well short of middle age these days – trim and efficient, always respectful but firm; I think he was in one of the human militaries before the Arrival, but he doesn’t talk about it. Or much of anything, outside work, although he relaxed a bit with Tantie-Ma Alice, I think. Mother made it clear who was in charge, and he held the line, even when I pushed a little. Harkness smiles and waves towards the rear of the control cabin.

“Very well put, uhmis Ingolfsson,” he says dryly. “If you’d like to disembark, I’m supposed to take this crate to Moonbase and have her checked out.” 

“Sure, Cap’n,” I say. “Tell them from me they did a terrific job.”

He nods and gives me a salute. I return it as the restraints retract and I stand up. In this configuration there’s a sloping corridor down from the control chamber to a lounge, and then another one down to the exit ramp. Alice is already there, with Rosta and Yannan pulling a floater piled high with the loot. 

I love Alice, hell, I can remember nursing at her breast. And she’s damned smart, anyone who forgets that is going to get a bit of a shock… but you’d think after fifteen years of being at the top of the human status-tree, she’d have lost some of her enthusiasm for piling up stuff. Then again, we Draka like piling up status-points, too; we just do it a little differently. Vicki’s got my bag; we didn’t get much, and had what we did buy shipped. 

We troop on up to the house. Everyone’s having breakfast, and it smells damned good. So do the people; I stop and give Mom a big hug, and Tanti-Ma Erin. I love her too, even if she is a bit of a worrywart. Ariadne I thump on the top of the head and grin at; she’s starting to smell a lot more like an adult, though; so’s May, human-style. There’s a noticeable difference even since I went on this trip.

“Hey, good,” I say, snaffling a few of the sausages, a roll, some bacon and a piece of ham. All I had on Stormbringer this morning was a couple of high-energy ration bars; I didn’t want to miss any of the reentry.

I lick my lips and look at Pat. It’s a bit strange, still, seeing him this way. We were together all through childhood, and then one day… whuff, whuff, I remember. One day he started looking edible. It’s still a bit weird to think of Mom mounting him like that… possibly she was reminding me about the codes. That would be just like her – show you the consequences of being negligent. I suppress a growl at the thought of some strange Draka taking Pat uninvited; he’s mine. Now the access codes on his transducer blink leave him alone as soon as I push for his identity. That shows through the code, of course; his name, his number, who owns him – me – and who I am.

Vicki goes over to him, mimes fainting with a wrist to her forehead, and slumps against his shoulder. “Oh, save me, Dauntless Hero! Two days on a spaceship, locked up with a horny Draka! Aiiiieeee! I perish, I fade away!”

“Fear not, maiden!” he replies, trying for a baritone and breaking into a squeak. “I shall fend her off with my…ah… sword.”

Everyone laughs, me included; she clutches at him and they tussle for a moment before she takes a chair of her own. For a human, Vicki’s a complete mink; it’s one of the many things I like about her. She keeps me grounded, too. Pat and I both tend to brood sometimes, but she’s too sensible. Even at fourteen, as tantie-ma Erin says. 

“Tell us about Mars,” Ariadne says, and I do. 

Pat and May and she all listen, and Vicki chimes in – some of it’s funny, and some of it’s awesome. Mom’s quiet, sipping her coffee and smiling at us; it’s irritating sometimes, that she doesn’t take us seriously. On the other hand, it’s still comforting. I feel adult a lot of the time, but I have to admit I’m not, really. Not ready to stand up to other Draka, certainly. Some of them, the older ones, scare the shit out of me. Particularly now, over the last couple of years, since puberty. Everything was fine while I was a kid, we Draka all love kids. But now that I scent more like a grownup, there’s an edge to them, except for some family friends like my comother Tamar. It’s great to know that Mom and she are there to back me up, and Unk Gunnar and de Lange and the others. Another seven years, and I’ll be open to challenges… gotta keep up on the unarmed combat stuff. Mom’s death on two feet at it, and she never grudges me and Ari the time to practice.

My tantie-ma’s are having a reunion, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. It’s always been great, how much they love each other and us. Jenny joshes them out of it after a while.

I’m finishing up with a description of the program I got at Marsdome, on the Europa Project. “Going to blow up the whole damned moon,” I say. “And hell, it’s bigger than Luna! Then they’ll set up a big mass-driver, and send lumps of it off in an endless stream towards Mars. Sized so they’ll burn up in the atmosphere; it’s mostly water-ice.”

Pat whistles. “They’ll have to use antimatter for that,” he says.

“Not just a pretty face,” I say, and leer a bit at him. He goes on: “Didn’t they do something like that on the Prime Line, muhmis?”

Mom nods. “Bit by bit, and much more slowly,” she says. “We didn’t have the drives and power plants Space Force here is getting until well after the Mars terraforming project there. It should go much faster here – no more than a century until there’s breathable air there, and oceans.”

I nod; it was exciting, watching the big mirrors under construction in Mars orbit. Those will heat the planet up, melting the C02 and the water, cooking gasses out of the rocks. Titian will furnish the nitrogen and stuff.

“Anyway,” I end, “It’s certainly big.”

“Yeah,” Pat says, looking dreamy.

“And we can talk about it more at dinner,” Mom says. “Why don’t you youngsters run along until then? You’re on holiday, but we’re not. I’ve got a meeting with my Councilors after lunch, and a few things to take care of before then.”

“OK,” I say. “See y’all later.”

Some of the older Draka – the Prime Line ones – think Mom’s strange, for relying on humans for so much advice. That is bonzer dumb, I think. Humans aren’t quite as smart as we are – IQ smart – but they’ve got great imaginations, some of them. I remember all the weird stuff Pat and Vicki came up with for us to play at while we were kids, whole worlds. I enjoyed the hell out of that, but there’s no way I could have done it by myself. Other Draka born here tell me the same thing, most of them. They think up new ways to come at things better than we do; that’s just a factoid you can’t erase.

Ari and May head off for the pool. I put an arm around Pat’s waist, hugging him close, and around Vicki’s shoulders on the other side. 

“Good to be home, Pat,” I say. “Missed you.”

“Hey, missed you too,” he says, grinning at me. I kiss him long and slow, and then Vicki does.

“Well, let’s go get reacquainted,” I say, and we walk towards my rooms.

“Hell, I thought we’d fornicate like mad mink,” he whispers in my ear.

“That too.”


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

The trip to the Training Center sounds really boss, I think, as I pack some books into a satchel. The house servants have already packed our bags, and I slide down the banister of the staircase, relishing the speed and the sheer badness of it. I’m not supposed to do that, and risk a warm behind if anyone catches me, but I don’t care. Going on a bonzer inspection trip is a hell of a lot more fun than sitting around, doing homework.

“Come on, Patrick, where are—oh, there you are. I thought you were outside already. The aircar’s here, let’s go!” Mama greets me at the front doors, hands on hips, foot tapping. She tosses her dark blonde hair back, out of her face, and grins at me. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Yeah! Say, speaking of…how about I just leave these books here…I can catch up on the calculus and stuff when we get—”

“No. No way, Jose. That won’t work on me. You might have pulled the wool over Alice’s eyes that once, on the New York trip, but not me…carry those books aboard, young man,” Mama orders, and I grin. Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I stick my tongue out at her as I pass her, and she wallops me playfully on the fanny. We’re still laughing by the time we get to the aircar, where everyone’s waiting. Alexandra is sitting in the copilot’s seat; Muhmis is flying us there. I put my satchel in a holder the ‘car extrudes for me, at the command from my transducer. Mama pats the seat next to her, and I jump in.

“Buckle up, youngsters,” Muhmis says, and we do so, as the vehicle leaves the ground. “Visual, optical, maximum. Set course, Training Camp Norris.” The car swivels west, and we’re off. 

The walls have disappeared, making it seem like we’re floating magically above the palms, then the ocean. It shades from light green to dark blue in a matter of seconds, as the aircar responds to Alexandra’s commands, speeding up and angling toward the sky. “Hey, Ma, this flies great! Better than that old heap we had…the one before this one,” my owner chortles with joy.

“Um, perhaps not so fast, my sweet. We have all day. It should take us approximately two hours to get to the base, Erin. Bring your books, Patrick? I hear you’re having some difficulty with third level calculus. Let’s sit back here and take a look, shall we?” Muhmis gestures toward the back of the aircar, and I reluctantly drag the bag of books—archaic, really, with our transducers and all, but Muhmis says tradition has its place—back to where she’s sitting, waiting with a smile on her tanned, aristocratic face. Back to the grind, I think, and then think about how she rode me into exhaustion on the path. I blush crimson, and cough, trying to cover it. Her smile grows wider, and she gestures for me to sit next to her. Oh, man…

Alexandra invites Mama up to sit in the front, and enjoy the flight. She, of course, has finished third level calculus, ahead of me, as usual. She winks at me, and I realize that she’s probably talked with her Mom about us, and vice versa…oh, wonderful. I wink back, though, and then Muhmis tweaks my left quad hard enough for me to jump, and I suddenly get very interested in math.

**  
I watch Patrick hurriedly pack his books in the satchel as we come in for a landing, and smile. As much a man as he’s become, there’s still the excited little boy in there, impatiently waiting for the fun to begin. He’s spent the last hour or so with Gwen, going over calculus problems. She’s a good teacher; patient but not a push-over. And I know—she tutored me on physics and some of the more advanced math I need to make heads or tails out of some of the stuff she has me work on, supervise… I grin, remembering the sessions, and how she reinforced my learning…the learning curve was definitely interesting.

We come in on a smooth gliding approach; Alexandra’s hands steady on the controls. I hear her request landing permission, and the rather tense acknowledgement…must be someone unused to the directness of a Draka landing pattern, I think, and smile over at her. She flashes a triumphant grin back, teeth even and white in her tanned, aquiline face. So much like her mother’s, I realize, but then that’s only natural, since she is a clone…but her personality is definitely her own. And she loves flying, with a passion. The aircar settles to the ground, and a hatch dials open, letting in the scent of pine needles and fresh grass. It’s a nice change from the carefully filtered air of the ‘car, and I take a deep breath. This inspection trip is more dress than anything, really; but it’s good to drop in and check on the troops every once in a while. Keeps their leaders on their toes—and helps avoid shit like what the Orlando Naval Training Center was doing, when Peter and I were there… I remember, and grimace slightly. 

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and open my eyes. Gwen’s there, looking down at me with that odd, closed curve of a smile she wears sometimes. I smile back, and shake myself a bit. Time to get back in the here and now, old girl, I chide myself silently, and pat her long-fingered, steel-strong hand. “Ready, Muhmis?”

“If you are, sweetlin’,” she says, squeezing gently. I look out the clear forward part of the aircar, and see the lines of the honor guard forming up, and the waiting forms of the commanding officer and his staff. Time to go…

“Let’s do it, then, Muhmis…” I stand, straightening my black tunic, with its gold and blue piping along the sleeves, collar and cuffs. The wrinkles fall from my black pants, and I quickly buff the shine on my shoes on the back of each pant leg before following Gwen to the exit. Alexandra and Pat are already outside, looking around with interest. The troops stand stiffly in ranks, eyes straight ahead, jaws set. The commanding officer, Captain Bush, walks over quickly, and kneels in front of Gwen.

Gwen waves the woman to her feet; the black uniformed Bush springs up and snaps a salute off. I swear, it’s so crisp I can hear it, I think, and return it the same way. The commander’s staff rise from their knees, and form into one rank, facing the honor guard. They’re smooth—must have done some practicing. I wonder who got to play the arriving Draka, one part of my mind, irreverent as always, wonders. I follow Gwen, to her right and behind her by a step. 

Commander Bush, her dark black hair carefully done up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, introduces her staff one by one, and as she does so, each man or woman salutes stiffly. Gwen returns the salutes with a subdued wave of a hand, and then we’re done. I feel the eyes of the staff looking me over, wondering, probably, how detailed the inspection will be. The kids, Alexandra and Patrick, have followed us, several steps behind, and I can see the excitement sparkling in their eyes. They love this stuff, like I used to, I think, and smile slightly. Life’s still so new to them, so bright, so clean—black and white, good guys and bad guys clearly marked and easy to recognize…

**  
Mama looks so serious, kinda sad, I think, as I pull my eyes away from the bossment Honor Guard. They look so cool in their black uniforms and silvered visors, and I itch to be one of them. I watch Alexandra trying to act all grown up, like she’s an Archon or something, and how she imitates her mother’s movements. Right down to the hand gestures, I grin. But that’s not the only thing they do the same, I remember, and try really hard not to blush. Alexa’s something else in bed, and out of it, soothly. And Vicki’s not so bad herself, either. I force myself to pay attention to the present, though, and walk a little more quickly to catch up with the other three.

There’s a ghouloon squad nearby, and Alexa wanders over to look them over. Not too many on Earth/2, but the ones that are here make the hair stand up on the back of my neck, that’s for damn sure. Their human squad leader barks an order, and the beasts, that’s what they are, may as well call ‘em as I see ‘em, slap a huge paw across their chests and howl. Their short, yapping bark sounds shivery; I’d hate to hear that, knowing they were coming after me. They’re well-armed, too, with pulseguns strapped to their backs and pouches for chargers and what not strapped across their ape-like chests. Tufts of fur sprout in between the straps, and their whiskers twitch as Alexandra approaches. Eyes, large and black, look straight ahead, though, like the troopers on the Honor Guard. I hang back, not wanting to get very close to the hairy critters.

I don’t mind most of the transgenes; the cats are cool, and what’s really, really boss is the kawtuh I met the other month; it, I guess it’s she, belongs to uhmis Tamarindus, and she’s really swank. Scary, too, when she snarls at you, but cool—like a raccoon, a cat, and a monkey, and a human, all on steroids or something. Pretty, too, with leopard-like fur, and a long tail. They couldn’t stay long when they visited, but uhmis Tamar said they’d be back soon, and that I’d get to know her kawtuh much better. Wonder what… oh, man, no way… well, maybe; she sure had a nice, if furry, set up top. Hmm… kinda weird to think about, but it’s sorta exciting…

“Hell, everything’s exciting, my pretty buck,” whispers Alexa, tickling me with her breath. I jump, not having noticed her come up, and I hear what sound like snickers from the ghouloons, who are watching us raptly. I start to blush, but fight it down savagely. Damn this fair skin of mine, anyway; at least the tan covers me sometimes. Her hand slips down my side, and I fidget, looking around for Muhmis and Mama. I take Alexa’s roving hand in mine and we walk over to where they’re standing, talking to the Captain. Wow, she’s a dish, too—even in that black uniform.

I bet you’d like her out of that black uniform, wouldn’t you?

Aw, Alexa…quit eavesdropping so much. Soothly…

Hmmm…my pretty buck’s little sword too tired from all that fighting we did last night?

I’ll show you how tired I am, NOT…

Children…pay attention, now. Play later. Muhmis’ voice, sent through our transducers, is dryly humorous, but serious. Alexa and I school our features and look more attentive. Alexa does squeeze the hell out of my hand, though, before letting it go. I feel a trickle of sweat run down my face, and wipe it off quickly. Jeezie petes, she makes me so damn hot…

The Captain goes on, not noticing the exchange; but then again, we were on private links. I pick up on what she’s saying in midsentence:

“…the training; we’ve revamped a lot of the individual holodeck sessions, as well. Your suggestion on developing that, Sera d’Ingolfsson, has changed things so much here, from the time I went through the sessions. It’s amazing, really. And it cuts down on training injuries, too, quite dramatically. If they can physically practice before being in a zero-g, vacuumed environment, they develop the reflexes more naturally, more smoothly…”

“Yes, that’s what we thought would happen. I know the initial cost to develop the system was a bit steep, but it will pay for itself quite readily, I think. I’m glad the Archonal Council here went for the idea. Could we see some of the training in progress? That’s one thing I was hoping for, on this trip,” Mama says, smiling widely at the other woman and at Muhmis.

“Yes, that would be interesting. We’ve already made plans to integrate this type of holodeck training into the school system, for various programs. It would be fascinating, I’m sure, to see it in action with your people. I’m sure these two would enjoy a session or two, if there’s room in the training schedule,” Muhmis agrees, nodding at us. Oh, totally flat! I’d groove for days if I got to go into one of the new holodecks, no fake. Alexa nods, eyes bright.

“Why, certainly, uhmis the Archon. I would be most honored to show uhmis Ingolfsson and her friend our setup here. There’s a class going on right now; if you’d be so kind as to follow me, please?” The dark-haired Captain Bush gestures politely, and we troop after her, my heart racing. These new holodecks are the real thing; Mama said she and Tom got the idea from some old snory television show, for god’s sake, something called “Star Trek”. Cool title, though, and some of the books Mama lent me about the show were pretty nifty. Liked Ryker, I did, and that doctor chick. And Worf…

We’re shown into a long, tall building, featureless to the outside world. Inside, it’s like an aircar parking hanger, but bigger. There are several stories, each reachable by stairs, lifters or a big freight lifter down at the far end. I watch some black-clad figures putting something in a crate on the freight lifter and glide upwards. The sun coming in through the walls is warm, and I see shafts of it lighting the interior all the way across the building. The walls outside looked like concrete, but here inside, it’s like we’re in a big glass box. People in uniform, and some in white lab coats, scurry around, talking happily. They do stiffen a bit when they see who’s visiting, and their voices lower. There’s an aura of respect around Muhmis; it’s nothing she does in particular, more in the way she just is. I watch her as she nods and says a few words to one of the guards at the door. The young man, pale at first, reddens a bit, and smiles as she walks on. He stands a little straighter, too, if that’s possible.

I smell coffee as we get on one of the personnel lifters; we pass several floors and finally stop on the fifth. There’s an aide waiting with a clipboard, and the Captain signs something quickly before leading us down the corridor. Classrooms on either side, some full of gray-clad trainees and black uniformed instructors; then we’re in the holodeck area. Oh, man, I can’t wait…

**  
The day has gone by so fast, I think, watching the sun set over the sharp-edged mountains. Dinner at the enlisted mess was quite good; Gwen ate in our rooms, busy with a call from Alexis. I had fun with Alexandra and Patrick, though, and the stories some of the older enlisted personnel got telling… From such a variety of backgrounds, all the world’s military, basically, and most of the major research facilities, there’s a fascinating mixture of people here. Redneck and white collar—they’re all working together to craft a Space Force that will stand the test of time. And they have a right to be proud, I muse, as the strains of “Taps” calls out over the base.

I turn from the window and walk across the room to where Gwen sits, eyes closed, on the couch. They’ve put us up in the guest quarters, and guests don’t do too badly by the Space Force. The carpet feels wonderful under my bare feet, and the hearth is lit by wavering flames. The smell of wood smoke is light in the room, and the couch is firm but comfortable. I curl up on the floor by Gwen’s feet, conscious of her moods well enough by now, and always aware of protocol with her. Leaning against the couch, and letting my head rest against her thigh, I watch the flames dancing in the fireplace. It’s been a long day, and maybe she won’t be too frisky tonight, I hope silently to myself. But c’est la vie…

“What are the children up to, Erin?” Her voice is soft, and I’d swear she actually sounds tired. I look up in surprise, and see her smiling down affectionately at me.

“They’re getting ready for a night training exercise, Muhmis…courtesy of Captain Bush. Alexa’s looking forward with great anticipation to piloting some of the newer terraformer craft, and Patrick’s just thrilled at the whole thing. We had fun at dinner; I missed you,” I smile back up at Gwen. She runs her hand through my hair.

“I would have greatly enjoyed eating dinner with the three of you as opposed to spending time wrangling with Alexis. Believe me. But duty called, and I had to answer…” She lets her head fall back onto the back of the couch, and sighs. “There are certain parts of politics I enjoy, but tonight’s session is one of the things I never missed at all after I gave up the Archonate.”

“You look tired, Gwen.”

A white grin in her café-au-lait tanned face replies. “I am, truth be told, sweetlin’. I am tired. Rare for me, anyway. I think you’re a bit tired, too, aren’t you? Come up here and sit with me for awhile, Erin. Come on,” she pats the couch next to her, and I climb up, curling under her arm, nestling my head against her shoulder. She strokes my hair, something she knows I love, and purrs softly. The evening seems so calm, so peaceful, even though I know something must be happening with the Archonal Council for Gwen to be tired after a negotiation session with Alexis Renston.

After long moments, she cups my chin and lifts my face to hers; our lips meet, then our tongues. The fire she always starts in me begins to grow louder, stronger, and I shiver in her steel-strong grip. Her hands explore me, gently, slowly… this time won’t be “emphatic” like some of our other sessions, I realize with relief. I’m not sure I could keep up at all if it was one of those times. My hands lace themselves behind Gwen’s head, pulling her down to me, and she begins to nibble down the line of my neck. Soon our clothes are in a pile on the floor, discarded in haste, and she’s leaning me back against the couch, straddling me, kissing me deeply.

My hands clamp on the back of the couch, feeling the fabric smooth and cool under my grip. My hands tense as my body arches to meet my Muhmis’ demands, as gentle as they are; she’s still insistent, challenging me, taking me, and my breath is coming in short, ragged gasps. The rest of the world is forgotten; all that matters right now is Gwen’s lips and hands and body on mine. The universe seems to shrink in on us, leaving the room and its contents behind in a haze.

Just as I begin to moan, knowing that I’m about to orgasm, I hear something through the throbbing of my blood and Gwen’s growls of pleasure. My head jerks up from where I’ve been nuzzling in Gwen’s undone, mahogany red hair at the same time Gwen’s head flashes up. Her eyes are bright; pupils wide. She’s as close to achieving orgasm as I am, I think dazedly, just from the way her eyes look, alone. Not to mention the way her body’s moving on mine… She snorts, and I hear the sound again, behind us, towards the door. It snicks shut, and my attention is pulled away from the waves crashing through my body.

I whine softly in frustration, and hear Gwen’s answering irritated snarl. She kisses me, almost savagely, and strides to the door. Her legs flash in the firelight, and the glint in her eyes says danger for anyone near the doorway. The door obediently dials open, and her arm snakes out, moving so fast it’s a blur. There’s a curse, then a squeak, and Patrick’s hauled through the doorway. She’s holding him up off the floor by a couple of feet, one hand clamped on the back of his neck.

“What in the name of Race Spirit are you doing, my bucko?” Gwen’s voice is frustrated and a bit angry. I stand up, looking at the two of them; I see his pale face flush red. I look down and realize belatedly that I’m naked, and so is Gwen. She doesn’t care, but I do, I think, and clasp some of our clothes in front of me.

“Answer me!” Her voice holds the whiplash of command in it. The hairs stand up on my tummy and arms, as goose bumps take over from ecstasy. The sound of the fire behind the iron grate is loud in the room; I can hear our breathing.

“I… I… I was looking for Mama, um… I’m sorry… I didn’t know anyone was… here,” Patrick stutters, swinging in her grip.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking? Or checking on your mother’s whereabouts and availability via your transducer?”

“Um… no. I didn’t… ow! Please, Muhmis… that hurts… I didn’t think of that, I was in a hurry!”

I feel anger begin to wash through me, but tightly hold a lid on it. If I’m this angry, Gwen could be worse. Patrick has probably just witnessed his mother making out with her owner, which has to be somewhat grunky, I think. I slip my pants on, and then the tunic, not bothering with underwear. “Muhmis?”

“What?” Gwen turns her head slightly toward me.

“Muhmis?” My voice shakes, and that causes my Muhmis to pause, and turn all the way toward me. An eyebrow coolly hints for me to continue, but at my own risk. Fine, I think, better me than him. “Please, don’t be mad… it was a mistake, a dumb one, but with all the excitement today and everything… please, Muhmis?”

Much to both Gwen’s and my surprise, Patrick speaks up. “Don’t take it for me, Ma. If she’s going to hit me, then let her. I was just looking for you to tell you we were leaving… that’s all. I didn’t mean to be a peeping tom. Not that I wanted to see what I saw, anyway.” His voice is angry, strident, and I see his arms bunch where they’re gripping Gwen’s forearm.

“You’re skating on very, very thin ice as it is, Patrick. Don’t add impertinence to the list. You wouldn’t like the punishment. Speaking of… how does grounding for six months at Gwendolyn Hall sound?” Gwen shakes him lightly, and in the stillness I can hear his teeth snap together as his head tosses.

“Muhmis Gwen… aw, come on, please… I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m sorry… heck… please?” His voice shakes just a bit, and my heart aches for him. Oh, please, Gwen, don’t hit my son, I think, watching her eyes narrow. I don’t know what I’d do, if you hit him…

“This was not only an intrusion, it interrupted something I was enjoying… I’m rather annoyed with you, pretty buck. Rather annoyed indeed. You’re not my own personal saafn, but there are standards to be met, regardless.”

Gwen drops him to the floor, spins him round and then Whack! The sound, like a rifle shot, fills the room, and my eyes fill with tears. Patrick arches up, mouth open in a moue of shock, and his hands fly back toward his rear, where Gwen’s just slapped him. She grins, slightly, and whacks him again. His green eyes flash with anger, and I feel helpless, horrified. God, Patrick, don’t fight her! That’s insane! I spread my hands out to either side of me and advance on the two of them.

“Please—please, Gwen…no, please, don’t…” I shake my head, but inside it’s me that’s shaking. I’ve never confronted her about disciplining Patrick or May; it’s never been an issue before.

“Go over to the couch, sit down and shut up, Erin. Now. You don’t want to argue with me about this. I’m merely irritated now; don’t make it worse, wench. He should have known better. He will know better from now on.” Whack!

Almost as if I’m watching myself from a place outside my body, I see my hands reach out and grasp Gwen’s arm as it cocks back for another slap aimed at Patrick’s ass. Her skin feels so hot beneath my fingers, and holding onto her arm is like trying to restrain a steel cable wrapped in velvet. She turns to me, eyes narrowing and snarls, a low, ripping, guttural sound. It makes my stomach feel full of ice, but I try to hold on. Not Patrick, not my son, not all I have left of Peter…not him, anything but not him. I pull down with all my strength, but her arm doesn’t move an inch.

Instead, it whips backward, thumping heavily against my chest. The air leaves my lungs in an explosive hunh! I fall backwards, landing on my fanny, then cracking my head on the hardwood deck behind the couch. Stars and fireworks sprinkle in front of my eyes, and I feel woozy. I hear, from a long way away, Patrick’s enraged howl; then suddenly I’m airborne.

I look down in a daze into Gwen’s coolly angry face. Pupils are huge, swallowing up the leaf green iris of her eyes, and her lips are peeled back to her gum line, showing all of her strong white teeth in a wolf’s snarl of fury. She’s holding me up by my tunic, and it begins to rip through her grasp, parting under her hand like tissue paper. She shifts her grip to my throat, and I feel her long fingers clamp around my neck. I gasp for breath, and dangle limply from her arm, several feet off the floor.

This is it, I think, I’m going to die now. Oh, please all the gods in the universe, let it be fast, please. I’ve survived so much pain, let this be fast… The room begins to go grey around me as her fingers squeeze my neck, cutting off my air. I whimper softly, helplessly, but don’t try to fight her. My hands hang down at my sides, and I wait.

“Don’t. Ever. Try. That. Again. Wench.” Her voice cuts through the fog like a lighthouse beacon; the force of it blasts against me like the back blast of an F18. I feel real terror rising up inside, fear like I haven’t felt for years and years surfacing instantly. I remember the last time she yelled at me full force like that, and how close I came to dying that night. This night, too, is on a razor’s edge. One false move, one thing she doesn’t like, and I’m history. Councilor or no, favorite or no…I’ve threatened her, and now the piper has to be paid.

I close my eyes, seeking to escape for a moment from the merciless stare of her predator’s visage. She shakes me from side to side, and whispers, “Open your eyes, serf.”

I instantly obey, hearing the coldness in her tone. I stare into her face, shivering uncontrollably.

“Erin. You made a mistake. I’m tense as it is. Don’t make this worse, gods-dammit!” Gwen whispers, her lips inches from mine. My God, just a few minutes ago, we were so close… moving as one, feeling as one… and now this. Jeezie Petes, let me live through this…

“Yes, Muhmis. Forgive me, please… I didn’t think… it was automatic, please… forgive me,” I say quietly, looking into her eyes. The green’s returning as her pupils shrink from anger to just annoyance. Even that could have quite uncomfortable consequences, I realize; an annoyed Draka isn’t any fun, but an angry Draka is very dangerous. An enraged one is quite usually a fatal thing for anything else to be around; but then again, Gwen has lived for over 450 years, so her control is rather better than most…

“Go to the bed and wait. You and I are going to have a little… session. Go on, now. Run, wench.” She drops me to the floor, and I scramble to my feet, sprinting toward the bed, where I kneel and wait her commands. I see, from the corner of my eye, Patrick standing, rubbing his fanny, his eyes dark and watering. Gwen stalks over to him and stands, hands on hips, in front of my son.

“Patrick, this better never, ever happen again. When I am in my chambers, I want privacy. Not interruptions by lost little boys looking for their mamas. You have a transducer; use it. Or I’ll think of a way to make you remember you have one implanted. Need I say more, buck?”

“No, Muhmis.” He’s trembling; at such close range, her anger pheromones are like being blasted by a sandstorm or something. I know, I’ve experienced it. Didn’t ever really want to experience it again, after the first time, I think, and shiver some more.

“Good. Now get out. We’ll talk more about this, believe me. I’m holding the grounding in abeyance… don’t push things.” She shoves him toward the door, and he stumbles toward it. He stops for a moment, looking over at me.

I’m stunned by his expression. I read anger, frustration… some sort of despair. Something’s happened here tonight, and it’s important, I think. I keep my head down, though, not wanting to risk more of Gwen’s wrath.

“Mama, I’m sorry… but…”

Gwen puts her hands on her hips and bellows: “Get out!”

Patrick ducks and runs from the room, face crimson. A silence falls over us, and a log pops in the fireplace. I nearly pop out of my skin. I wait, kneeling, by the bed.

Walking over to the bar along one wall of the guest quarters, Gwen pours herself a brandy and then goes to sit on the couch. She stays there for over an hour, motionless. I shift slightly so I’m not putting all my weight on my kneecaps, and wait, patiently. I hope it’s not going to be too awful, I think hopelessly. I have meetings to attend tomorrow, and if I can’t sit down, it’ll be kinda embarrassing.

Finishing the last of the snifter, Gwen puts it down by the bar and walks over to the bed and me. She climbs onto the bed, and sits cross-legged, looking down at me with an inscrutable stare. I feel chilled inside; have I really blown over a decade of being close to her all in one night? One mistake?

“Erin?”

I look up through my bangs. “Yes, Muhmis?”

“Been thinking?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she says. “Get up here.”

I do so, stiffly standing on sore legs, and then climbing carefully onto the bed, sitting down next to her. I keep my eyes down, feeling the tenseness between us like a physical thing, a barrier, a presence in the bed with us. “Your will, Muhmis.”

“Indeed. My will. Erin, Erin… what am I to do with you?” Red hair glints in the firelight as she shakes her head from side to side. “I don’t want to punish you, not for acting like a protective mother would. But you have other responsibilities, other things to remember. Make another mistake like that, and it could be the last mistake you’ll ever make, wench. I mean that.”

Oh, god, I wail inside. I couldn’t help it… he’s my son, for chrissakes… I nod, showing that I’ve heard and understood her.

“Hell. I was just starting to unwind, too… come here, Erin.” She gestures, and I lay across her lap, face down. She strips the pants off me and then I’m bare, goose-bumpy. Frightened. I feel her body move as her arm swings down, and there’s an instant of numbness following the slap of her hand. Then fire moves through me, centering on my fanny, and I sob quietly. Oh, god… it’s been so long since she’s had to do this, since I’ve had to take this…

Strong hands pick me up, and swing me to face Gwen. “Don’t make that mistake again, Erin. You’re mine; he’s not a baby or a child anymore. He’s his own man now, and a serf. He’ll have to take his own punishments, not you. Don’t ever challenge me like you just did, understand?”

I nod, sniffling, aware of the tears trickling down my face and throat. “Y-y-y-yes, Gwen.”

She sighs, and pulls me to her. “You’re my favorite human, Erin, but I won’t make exceptions for you, or any other human. Any other serf. Period. I want to make perfectly sure you understand that, my girl.” My head rests on her chest, her chin on my head. I nod slowly, realizing just how close I came to the beating of my life, or the ending of my life. A hair’s-breadth away, a instant’s fury… and I’d be as dead as the logs in the fire. Less useful, too, except as ghouloon treats. I shiver violently as my arms go around Gwen’s waist.

“Patrick should have used his transducer. It’s that simple. He was being nosey, curious… that’s a trait that I enjoy for the most part in humans, but when it comes to popping into chambers unannounced, that’s another thing altogether,” Gwen sighs, stroking her hands down my back, caressing my now-sore ass. She gently pulls me away from her, so that we’re looking at each other, face to face.

“Do you understand, Erin? All the time I’ve had you, the only advantage you’ve tried to take in your position as my favorite has been to talk me out of punishments for others. You’ve never tried to talk me out of one for you, or to talk me into other things. I’ve known serfs to do that, or try to do that, with their owners. I have generations of experience behind me, and I know these things. You’ve been excellent that way. But don’t ever try to come between me and a serf the way you did tonight. Clear?”

“Yes, Gwen.” I look soberly into her leaf-green eyes. A tear slides from one of mine, and she catches it with a precise fingertip.

“Now… what I want you to do right now… besides stopping crying, is this: go find Patrick and talk to him. Get him calmed down before this night exercise, or he could be distracted, a danger to himself and to others. Then… come back to me. I need some time to think right now, and calm down before I take you, my sweet…” she fondles me roughly, and I gasp. “I do want you able to attend your meetings and the demonstrations scheduled for tomorrow. Hurry up, now—run along. I’ll be waiting for you.”

She releases me from her hold, with a rough kiss, and I stand, retrieving my pants. “Thanks, Gwen… I really am sorry. You know that; you know how important you are to me…”

“I know. And I know how important Pat is to you, as well. But it’s a lesson learned now; not one we need to repeat, ever. Go along, now—find him and calm him down. Then back to me, hear?”

“I hear, Muhmis, and obey,” I say quietly, as I pull on an exercise tunic and sandals. The door shushes closed behind me and I pad down the hallway, checking through my transducer for my son’s whereabouts.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter 4

I find him pacing on the balcony of his quarters, cursing in a monotone. “Patrick?”

“What? Come to give me a lecture? I’m surprised she let you leave her august presence…”

“Whoah, doggies… let’s back up for a minute.” I stand, arms akimbo, and wait for him to meet my eyes. Now I feel the anger, as well as the relief, rushing forth, and I want to smack him and hug him, all at the same time. I know your fanny’s on fire, my boyo, I think, and grin a bit.

“What’s so funny?” He comes to face me, and I see his eyes are sparkling with anger. His face is flushed, and his fists are clenched tightly by his sides. This is the angriest I’ve ever seen you, my only son, I wonder. Is there something more than what just happened going on?

“Patrick, you need to calm down for a minute…”

“Shit, calm down. Not only did I have to see my mother, all naked and sweaty, serving her muhmis, I get the hell knocked out of me for a simple mistake… and now I have to be calm? Yeah, right…” He turns to walk away, body tense as a steel spring, and I reach out and grasp an arm firmly.

“Listen to me, young man, and listen well. I just got my butt whipped over you, and it’s time we had a talk about this. I can’t protect you, Pat; you’re a young man now. And yeah, what you did was kinda dumb. Why didn’t you just call me? I could have answered you…”

“You were too damn busy!”

I roll my eyes, letting my frustration vent in a long sigh. “Listen to me… you’ve known, ever since you were old enough to figure stuff out, that I serve Gwen that way, as well as many other ways. That’s sort of a fact of life as we know it now. Why’s that become such a big deal? I know it’s kinda icky to see your mom doing “it”, but it’s not like we made you watch or something. I’ve always been honest about this stuff with you, and answered all your questions…”

“Yeah,” in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “You’re really good at that.”

My eyes fill with tears, much against my will. “Patrick, try to talk with me about this. You’re being ornery as hell. Why? It’s not just the confrontation with Gwen, is it?”

“Why the hell do you give a damn? Just go get back on your knees to your darling ‘Muhmis’, why don’t—”

My hand cracks across his face. I hadn’t even thought about hitting him; I’ve never hit him in anger before. My hand stings, and a red welt rises on his cheek. “Patrick Kane d’Ingolfsson, don’t talk to me like that. I’m your mother, and I thought we were friends. What the hell is the matter with you?”

He turns stiffly away, hunching his shoulders. “Like I said, you’re so good at explaining things…”

Aarrghh…why are adolescents so damn hard to talk to sometimes? I grind out to myself, and try to focus on communicating, not fighting. I’m already sort of ashamed I slapped him. “Patrick, please try to explain what you mean, please? I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

There’s a moment’s silence, and then he turns to me. “You never explained that Draka can’t love humans, you never told me… you never did, and now I’m an idiot. Maybe I was a fool to think…” His voice cracks, and I reach out to him, slowly. He backs away, wiping savagely at his face. Tears slip down his tanned cheeks regardless. “Maybe… but you never told me, and you’re in love with her…”

“Wait a second…who am I in love with? Gwen? I don’t think so… I mean, I like her a great deal, personally, and trust her, but there’s always that edge of fear, or the thing about being owned. What are you talking about… what do you mean I didn’t tell you Draka can’t fall in love with humans? I don’t…” I suddenly stop, aware now of what he must be talking about. “You and Alexandra, Patrick? Is that what you’re upset about?”

“Like it matters to you, you Glitch-forsaken…”

“Hey, you want to start a cussing war, just remember I’m a Swabbie, kid. I can outcuss you any day. But that’s not answering my question. Did you tell Alexandra you were in love with her today, or something, and it didn’t work out the way you thought it would?”

No answer from the sulking young man across from me, and that’s answer enough. “When did this happen, Pat?” My voice is gentle.

“This afternoon… after we spent it together, after dinner…” He crosses his arms in front of him and stares at me, almost in challenge.

“Honey, we’ve talked some about this. Don’t shake your head no, we have, too. You belong to her, like I belong to Gwen. That’s the way life is right now. And you can like the Draka personally, you can like them a lot. But I just don’t think they’re able to love us like they can another Draka. They may enjoy us a great deal, and have favorites, but even that has boundaries, limits… Gwen and I’ve talked a little about this, trying to define our words clearly, our meanings… not only is it a cultural difference, for them it’s almost a physical difference. They’re wired to be protective of us, their saafn, and to enjoy guiding us, as well as dominating us, but they can only ‘love’ another Draka, and that’s fairly rare.”

He stands before me, silhouetted against the night sky. We have to get this ironed out before it’s time for him to leave on the exercise, I remind myself, and reach out, pulling him to me. I feel him stiffen like a board as I hold him, unyielding, in my arms, and I stroke his hair. Suddenly, like a branch snapping, he becomes more pliant, and hugs me back, sniffling softly against my shoulder. Of course, he’s taller than I am, so he’s bending down some, but I hug and rock him gently.

“Patrick, oh, honey… you told her you love her, right?” A nod against my shoulder, and a stifled sniff. “And she told you what? Did you have words, or something?”

“Yeah, Mama. I guess. She just acted so surprised… and then she tried to laugh about it, and I got mad, I guess. Then she got mad, and pushed me out of bed. If Vicki had been there, she could have calmed us both down, I guess… but then I got really mad, ‘cause I was crying, and she told me I was being a silly human, and to get over it,” he says, his voice raw with pain.

“Then what happened, sugar?”

“I just sat there, I didn’t know what to say… I had thought she really liked me, and that maybe she loved me, like I do her… and she just sighed really loud and stalked out of the room. I got up and came looking for you, and I honest to god didn’t think of using my transducer until Muhmis Gwen asked me why I didn’t…”

“Oh, honey…” I tighten my grip on my son, my heart aching for him. “Honey… Alexandra just didn’t know what to do. Then both of you got defensive… come on, you guys can work this out. I know you can…”

He pulls away from me. “Mama, there’s something building inside me, and it’s trying to get out. I get so mad, sometimes. Like when Gwen hit you. I could have knocked her head off. And when she told you to run, and you did… then I get mad at you. For obeying. For being hers. And I’m mad about me belonging to Alexa, and I never was before. Am I going nuts or something?”

“No. You’re growing up. You’re facing the hard choices we have to make as humans right now. And like it or not, you’re starting to see me as a person, with desires, and dumb ideas, and good ideas, and lovers… I’m not just your mama anymore. That’s a big transition, all in itself, without all this other stuff, and hormones on top of everything. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now, but I have been there. I know you probably think I’m as old as the hills, but I actually remember being your age, honey. It’s not easy; it never is.”

“But… I don’t want to be a serf.”

“No one does. Well, some do… but no one that’s got a lick of sense wants to be. It’s not a game or something, where you can say a ‘safe word’ and it all stops. But when you have the choice of being a serf or being dead, my money goes on being a serf. Survival, Patrick. Survival for the human race, as humans. That’s what I’m working for. One day, we’ll be free again, but that’s not something we can be right now. We can survive, though, and try to make things better.”

“Maybe. I just hate seeing you bow before her. You shouldn’t have to, and neither should I. No one should. And now I’m probably in trouble with her again. Like I am with Alexa.”

“I have schooled myself, Patrick, to accept certain things. Like bowing, and serving her. Serving the Race. It could be a hell of a lot worse, like what goes on on Earth/3. That’s what I am trying to avoid here on Earth/2. And no, you’re not in trouble again, but you need to be very thoughtful about saying this stuff out in the open. You can talk to me about it, or Tom, or Alice… but you don’t want to talk with everyone about it, because that could lead to trouble. Just remember. Do you remember the talk we had about the place inside, that no one can get to? That’s the place to keep this, and think about it.”

He turns, looking up at the stars after glancing at me. “I’m just…”

“What?”

There’s a long pause, and then he softly says, “I’m ashamed of you, Mama. And I feel bad, really bad, for feeling that way. But it’s the truth. I don’t want to live like this for the rest of my life, and it’s not just that I told Alexandra how I feel about her, and she thought it was funny. This’s been building for a long time…”

My heart twinges sharply at his words, and it’s hard to get a deep breath. Ashamed of me, my own flesh and blood? For surviving? For ensuring the survival of our genome? Shit. Everything I’ve sacrificed, and this kid tells me he’s ashamed of me? For a moment, rage rears her ugly head, and I feel my face redden with anger. But a deeper feeling of grief, of loss, surfaces, leaving me speechless. I stand before him, trying to see through a veil of tears standing in my eyes.

“Sorry, Mama…” he whispers, turning away. His shoulders shake, and part of me wants to fold him in my arms and make it all better. But I can’t. I can’t fix what’s broken, now.

“Patrick…” My voice breaks. “I never knew…”

“Patrick?” Alexandra calls from inside his room. “Hey, you ready to go?”

“Oh, shit, man…” He wipes his face with a sleeve, and turns back to me. “Mama… I’m sorry, but you said to always be honest. So I was. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll work things out, okay? I will.”

“Tantie-ma Erin—what are you… oh. Been talking about this afternoon? Listen, Pat, I’m sorry I laughed. I know you meant what you said…” Alexandra shifts from foot to foot, looking up into the night sky.

“I know. I understand now, more than I did. Thanks, Mama, and thanks, to you, too, Alexa. It’s cool. I’m ready to go, Alexandra. Let’s go do it—it’ll be more fun than the rest of the evening has been. It better be.” He pats me clumsily on the shoulder and walks past me, and past Alexandra, into the brightness of the room beyond.

“Tantie-ma? Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you so upset? Did he say something wrong?” She puts her arm around my shoulders and snuggles against me, voice gentle and concerned.

“Naw. I’ll be okay, sweet. You run along now—don’t make Captain Bush wait on y’all,” I try bravely to smile. It comes out lopsided. “Hey, Alexa… take good care of him, especially tonight? Things are changing for him… it’s one of those growing up things. Please keep an eye on him for me, okay?”

She leans down and kisses me resoundingly on the top of my head. “Sure thing, Tantie-ma. I’ll always take good care of him. We’ll work this out. I’ll sit him down tomorrow and have a heart to heart with him. I do care about him, ever so much… but I don’t, you know…”

“I know. The ‘L’ word. I understand.” I grin up at her, the likeness in her face so much like Gwen, but somehow different, softer in some ways, harder in others. Clone-child, you’re becoming your own woman self now, and these changes must be as mysterious and painful to you as they are to my son, I think, looking into her leaf-green, youthful eyes.

Alexandra kisses me on the forehead, more gently, and hugs me with careful strength. She turns and walks away, into the room, and I hear the two of them talking animatedly about the night’s promised adventures as they leave to meet Captain Bush and her crew for the night exercise. Once they’ve left, the silence is loud. I stand, looking at the stars, wondering what in the world to do. My heart twinges again, and I hug myself, wishing for the millionth time that Peter was here with me.

**  
“Woof!” I say, throwing down my equipment on a chair.

“Woof!” Pat grins back at me, doing likewise. There’s still something underneath, though…

“OK, Pat, you too tired or what?”

“Never too tired,” he says. “Patrick Wayne d’Ingolfsson is a tower of strength!” Then he yawns.

“Yeah, you are,” I laugh, looking down. “Not what I meant, though.”

He stiffens slightly. I rub at the sides of my head and sigh. “You know, this stuff was all a lot simpler when we were kids… OK, I’d like to talk, and we have to sometime, but we don’t have to now, all right? So, what is it?”

Pat looks at me, then relaxes. “All right. Talk.”

“Right, first things first.” I take a deep breath; this isn’t easy. In fact, it isn’t easy for humans, and it’s a lot harder for me. “I apologize.”

“Huh?” his jaw drops.

“I said, I apologize!” I snap, then see what I’m doing and laugh a little. “Look, this isn’t easy, OK? I’m a Draka –”

“I noticed.”

“—and it’s hard for us to back down! Harder than it is for you by a long shot! Cut me some fucking slack!”

Pat teeters between getting mad and laughing, and falls down on the laughing side. After a second he gets serious again. “OK, I guess. Thanks.”

“De nadovski, Pat,” I say, and go over and sit beside him. “Look, you surprised me this afternoon, all right? I mean, it got so serious all of a sudden. There I am, having a good time, better because you’re there, and all of a sudden you hit me with the L-word.”

“Sorry I said it.”

I take his hands in mine. “Look, I’m not. Even with all this shit we’re blundering around with now… I’m sorry I hurt your feelings and… look, I’ve got feelings too, you know? I can hurt too. I am hurting right now; we both are.”

“You are?” he says.

“Well, duh, Pat. Of course I am. I can’t figure out your feelings sometimes – a lot of the time these days I don’t know what I’m feeling – but when you’re hurting, it hurts me. Quite a lot, actually.”

“It does?” He swallows. “Uh… after everything… I’m sorta surprised.”

I get up and start to stride back and forth; my pheromones are under control, but only just. “Pat, this love stuff… what the hell does it mean, really?”

“I know what it means.”

“Oh, yeah? Define it in words of… right. You love your Mom, right?”

“Well… of course. I’m sort of mad with her now, though.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. Look, I love your Mom. About as much as I do my mother, or Alice. In fact, I’m closer to your Mom than mine, a lot of the time – say 80%, when it’s not just drakensis stuff. Shit, my Mom’s from a different world and she’s 470 years old, and you don’t think this gives us problems, the two of us? 

Pat gives an unwilling snort of laughter. “Now that you mention it, yeah, I can see how that’d complicate things. You’ve mentioned it.”

“Right, it’s like she’s an alien sometimes; she says something, I realize she’s been around so god-damned long, and my hair tries to stand up.” I sigh. “OK, you and I both love your Mom. But that’s different, right?”

“OK,” he says, eyes narrowing a little. Pat’s smart, I think. When he uses it… damn, but I’ve been known to run on hormones for a while lately, no higher functions involved at all, as Mom says. All the calm thoughtfulness of a rutting ghouloon, is what she said, actually. “Yeah, granted for the sake of argument as Professor Clarke tells us.”

“You love Vicki? I mean seriously now, Pat, do you?”

“Hey –” He pauses. “Well…” Another pause, a long one. “Yeah, actually, I think I do. Sort of like… well, not like a sister, really.” 

He grins, and I answer. Back on the Prime Line they don’t mind siblings getting it on; I’m not grotted out by the idea the way Pat is, and he’s not as grotted as his Mom, but it does seem a bit gronky-stucco – guess I’ve sort of caught something local as well as vice versa.

“Sort of like really close, with sex too,” he finishes. “Vicki’s comfy, you know what I mean. But not –”

“But not the way you feel about me,” I say. I kick a settee over and sit down in front of him, grab his eyes with mine. “Well, I like her a lot too – and man, she rings my chimes too. But I don’t feel the same way about her as I do about you, and I certainly don’t feel the same way about either of you as I do about Erin or Alice or Mom.”

“What’s all this leading up to?” He’s not as tense, now. Neither am I. I take another deep breath and go on:

“OK, so what I’m feeling for you isn’t exactly what you’re feeling for me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Think about that for a second, goddamn it!”

He does, brows knotting, and I get a flash of warm feeling in my chest for him. Dammit, it’s so hard to do this! I keep feeling challenged, and it’s taking all my self-control to push it down. He’s not really challenging me; I have to convince my glands of that.

“Yeah,” he says softly after a while. “Yeah, Alexa, I think… you’ve got a point, there.”

“OK, so let’s define it? I like you better than anyone I know – with Vicki a close second – and I’ve got this major lust for you and I’m happier with you there, and everything’s more fun when we do it together, and if you’re not happy, I’m not happy… If that’s not love, it’s as close as I can get.”

We hold each other for a second. “You’re fucking persuasive, you know that?” he says after a while.

“I should hope,” I say. “I mean it, Pat – I want you around forever.”

He stiffens, ever so slightly. “I don’t… I’m not… I won’t live as long as you, Alexa.”

“No shit – seven years and I’m challenge-worthy, and Pat, it scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure if I can hack it – most of us die before we hit 100, Pat, we get killed; how can I tell if I’m gonna be one of the lucky ones? I don’t know if I can protect you and Vicki, and that scares me worse than dying… Mom can’t help me then…” 

I hesitate, drop my voice to a whisper. That doesn’t mean anything – recording sensors can hear better than me – but I can’t help it. “Pat, I’m gonna tell you something. If it gets out, I am in a world of shit, and so are you… want to hear it?”

He straightens; we’re sitting facing each other, with hands on each other’s shoulders. “Secret?”

“Oh, man, you don’t know how secret. If Mom finds out I told, she’ll tan me from head to heels, nail my hide to the barn door, and ground me for eternity. It could screw things up for her bad.”

Slowly, solemnly, he nods. “Shoot the beam, Alexa. Word of honor – nobody’ll hear it from me.”

“OK. Mom’s been fighting with Alexis, you know that? That’s why she’s so bitchy today.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, the reason is she wants to lift the rejuve limitation on non-Draka.” He whistles, silently. “Not for everyone, but for people like you and Erin and Alice and and Unk Tom and Aunt Jenny. And for some others, as a reward. And she’s winning but it’s damn difficult. She had to call in a lot of favors, and this bitchoid-from-hades Vashon, she really made her pay for it, through the teeth – there’s old bad blood there, and Mom had to, like, beg. Mom felt really done-down about that, and Pat, you can’t believe how rotten being done-down feels to us Draka. Really, truly, bonzer-bad, a lot worse than for you and it isn’t fun at all for you, I know that.”

“I know,” he says. Then after a moment. “Hey, it must feel rotski for you guys if it feels worse than it does for us.”

“Tell me about it,” I quote back at him, smiling. Pat’s so thoughtful, even when he’s upset. It’s one of the things I really like about him. Then I go on:

“So if this goes through, and it probably will, you can live as long as me, Pat. She promised me you’d be on the list.”

“Hey,” he he says. It’s sort of theoretical for him, I think; me too, and I’ve always known I’d never get old. But it’s still a biggie. “Hey, that sort of changes the perspective, you know? I’m gonna have to think about it.”

“Yupper,” I say. “That’s how much I feel for you, Pat – I want you with me a thousand thousand years. That OK?”

He gives that crooked smile I like. “Yeah… if only you weren’t such an asshole sometimes.”

I laugh. “That’s muhmis asshole to you, Pat.” I get more serious. “Pat, I can’t help what I am – wanting to be boss, that sort of thing. I need that, I can’t help it, it’s the way I’m designed. But I need you too, Pat. I need you to feel good about me. I’m not Mom, I’m not older than God, I can’t… wall off the way I feel like she can. Don’t go away from me in here, OK?” I touch him on the forehead.

“OK,” he says. “Let’s make up.”

“Make out?” I grin.

“That too. Hit me with them pheromones, Alexa.”

“Hey, you hardly need ‘em,” I say, and grab him.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter 5

“Everything settled, Erin?” Gwen turns from the window, her eyes glinting cat-like in the fire lit room, shadows moving in the corners as the flames dance in the hearth. She smiles, that odd, closed curve of her lips, and I think, as always, of the Mona Lisa or a Sphinx. I return the smile, tiredly.

“Yes… I guess. Well enough they’ll be okay tonight on the exercise. Why are adolescents such odd critters, Gwen? It seems to be natural for both our species… they just sort of go haywire, or cattywonkers, for a few years, and then you can talk with them again…” I sit on the arm of the couch and yawn, covering my mouth with a hand.

“What was that—cattywonkers? I like that. Sounds about right. Yes, they all go through it. You and I did, many years ago,” Gwen chuckles, and comes to stand behind me. Her hands begin kneading my shoulders, smooth power tugging at the tenseness. I sigh and arch my back a little, relaxing into her grip. Odd how simple things like this give so much pleasure, so much reassurance, I think to myself. I reach up and stroke one of her long fingered hands with one of mine, and note the contrast.

My hands are small; Peter always joked with me that that was a perk in my line of life. He was such a cad sometimes. My hands are broad but short; my middle finger on my left hand is somewhat crooked, a souvenir of the Nimitz, and something I’ve never bothered to have fixed. The burn scars have been removed, though, years ago. Tanned, but not as dark as the hand I’m touching. Gwen’s fingers are long, tapering to slenderness, but steel strong. There’s a hardness to her that’s unlike any human I’ve ever known; the muscle beneath the skin is rock solid, like marble. The heat from her overcharged metabolism makes her fingers leave trails of heat across my neck and shoulders as she continues to touch me.

“Ready for bed, younglin’?” She nuzzles down into my dark blonde hair with her chin, and I can feel and hear her purr. I nod, silently, and she stands me up, then catches me up in her arms. I always worry, even though I know it’s silly, that she’ll strain herself or something, and her Draka hearing catches my subvocalization clearly. Her bronze, bell-like laugh echoes through the room, and a thrill races down my spine.

“Gwen…” I link my arms around her neck, delicately stroking my fingers down the sinuous curves of tendon and muscle, until I reach her collarbones.

“Mmh-hmmm?” She sets me gently down on the bed, turned back and ready for us.

The firelight makes a nimbus around her red hair, and my breath catches at the sheer leopard-like grace and beauty of her. Leaf green eyes, large in the darkness, look down into my hazel ones, full of… I pause for a moment, placing the expression. Tenderness… that’s what it is, I think to myself. She’s being so gentle, so tender right now…such a change from earlier. I shudder slightly, remembering her angry snarl. She feels my tremble, and begins kissing me delicately along my jaw line, down my neck.

“Gwen, I…” How do I say this, I think frantically. I never say stuff like this, ever… I never find the need or the want to ask for something; I’ve always been comfortable with my lover taking the lead in situations like this. This feels so awkward… I clear my throat. “Muhmis… may I ask for something, tonight?”

Her head comes up, surprise in her eyes. She straddles me, and tosses her robe to the floor behind her, grinning. “Why, Erin… this is unusual. Yes, ask away, my sweetlin’…”

I take a deep breath, and then look up at her. I know my eyes are probably saying more than I ever can with words, but here goes… “Gwendolyn, would you just hold me for awhile?” My voice shakes, and inwardly I cuss myself out. Damn it, girl, get a grip. The worst she can say is…

No. No, you’re mine, and you’ll serve my pleasure. You’re my slave. You’re not allowed to ask for such. You’re more trouble than you’re worth. You’re stupid, or silly, or both. You’re a serf, I’m your owner. No. Or the worst… maybe not saying anything at all. My heart pounds, and I swallow, nervously. I’ve never asked her anything like this, in all the years now that we’ve been together.

“Sssaaa, Erin, my darlin’… don’t be so afraid to ask for what you’d like. You might just get it. Ssshhhh…” Her lips cover mine as I try to say I’m sorry. “Erin… it’s all right. You are mine, I am your owner… but more than that, I like you. You are precious to me, my little human wench. Precious, indeed. Now, lie here with me and let me hold you, like this… yes, that’s right… is this what you want?” Gwen’s voice is soft, barely a whisper, and I feel the kiss of air on my cheek as she speaks.

A short sob escapes past my clenched teeth, and I nod, unable to speak now. She cradles me, my head against her chest, feeling the thudding of her heart under my ear; her arms enfold me, rocking me gently to and fro. One long leg slides over both of mine, and I feel safe in her arms. The arms of my muhmis… the arms of the woman who owns you, who could kill you on a whim, says the tiny voice in the back of my mind, and Patrick’s words of shame rise up, branding me, crucifying me internally. The sobs come more openly now, and I feel Gwen’s grip tighten as she holds me close.

Long moments pass, and so does my crying jag. I feel Gwen move slightly, and she reaches back behind her, a long, double jointed arm easily finding the box of tissues above the headboard. She hands me several, and I blow my nose. I’ve never been a beautiful crier, I think to myself; I always get red and splotchy, and stuffy. That done with, I look up into her cool, aristocratic face. She grins down at me, her eyes gentle and warm. “Feel better, my sweet?”

“Yes, thanks… god, Gwen, I needed that… I’m sorry I cried all over you…” I dab at teardrops on her breasts, and she laughs. Her purr is louder now and her hands stroke me, circles over and over on my back, ranging down to my hips, my ass, my thighs, then back up. The delicate, precise touch is increasing in intensity, and I gasp softly. “Gwen…”

Her hair falls down over us as she mounts me, bathing us in a mahogany shower of silkiness. “Yes, my pretty-girl?” Her purr is rumbling deep from her chest now, and she begins to move on me, pushing me flat on my back, spreading my legs wide with hers. Our bodies touch, and the ancient rhythm begins.

“I need you. Oh, gods, I need you, Gwen… ahhh…” I arch up, into her arms, and her weight bears me back down; her lips on mine, tongue thrusting in past my sigh of arousal. Muhmis’ snarl of pleasure, of joy, fills my ears. Words are lost in the night; calls of arousal, excitement, and finally satiation replace them. Stars rise and fall unnoticed as we make our own universe within.

**  
Ma?

Oh, ye gods and goddesses…what time is it? I rub my eyes with my one free hand, feeling the solid weight and warmth of my Muhmis next to me, curled into a ball. Our hair is tousled together; the morning sun is just now peeking over the horizon of fir trees. Patrick? Everything okay?

Yeah. A pause. Now that I have Alexa taking a shower… I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk with me, before breakfast. Please, Ma?

Okay. I’ll meet you in about ten minutes, out front. Okay with you?

Yeah, I’ll see you there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He chuckles, knowing that I’m not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and then his voice in my head is gone. The transducer helpfully tells me it’s 5:24 in the morning, and the temperature outside is 53 degrees Fahrenheit. Thanks. I needed that. Sighing, I gently begin the delicate process of disentangling myself from Gwen.

She stirs, mumbles once, and then she’s awake. Just like that; no muzziness, or bleary-eyed peering about. She smiles at me, and runs a hand through my hair. I’ve never been able to sneak out of bed without her knowing about it, unless she’s been busy with someone else at the time. Even then, she notes it and comes to check on me if I’m not back after awhile. “Hmmm…. Bed-hair!” She chuckles, and then begins tickling me.

Giggling, we roll around for several minutes, and then I realize I’m going to be late. “Hey, hey… Gwen, Muhmis… I have to go…”

“I won’t tickle you that much, pretty pony…” Muhmis laughs delightedly, both at her joke (she did tickle me too much once, and Jennifer and Alice haven’t let me live it down for long… packages of ‘Depends’ kept finding their way to my desk…) and at the blush she produces on my face.

“Grrr… no, really… I’m going to meet Pat for a walk, before breakfast. He actually remembered to use his transducer this time…” I kiss her loudly on the forehead, and then more gently on the cheek. Her hands tug my head back down as I sit up, and she gives me a long, hard kiss, morning breath or no. It would be so nice to fall back into her arms, and do what she wants, I think, with a smile…

“Ah, wench… my pretty-girl. You buck so well for muhmis…” She wolf-grins up at me, and then pinches my fanny. I shriek a little, bolting upright, grabbing backwards at the offending hand. She nips me on the tummy, and then laughs as I wriggle away from her. She’s letting me go, I realize, and inwardly I thank her. She didn’t have to… Gwen, through her laughter, says, finally, “Run along. I’ll meet you for breakfast. An hour, say…”

“Yes, Gwen…” I finally make it to the side of the bed and stand. I reach back and stroke a strand of deep red hair back from her face, tucking it behind an ear. “Thanks, Muhmis… really… for last night, and now…”

“Sweet girl. Run along, before I change my mind and leap upon you. Hmm, that sounds fun…” She crouches in the bed, muscles and tendons moving like machined steel in oil. I grin and scamper away.

“I’ll take a rain check, Muhmis…” I manage to close the door to the bathroom before she gets to me, and quickly give myself a cat’s bath, trying to untangle my hair and wash the sleep from my face. I emerge a few moments later, and see that she’s on the deck, sitting in one of the chairs, eyes blank. Using her transducer again, I think, and silently get dressed. I pad down the hallway, and then race to the front door. Patrick’s waiting for me, sitting on one of the marble benches.

“You’re…”

“I know. Late. Sorry. You know how it is,” I grin, hugging him one-armed. He returns the hug, with both arms, and while he holds me tight, he whispers:

“I’m sorry, Mama, for what I said last night. Can I take it back? I was being dumb, and angry.”

My heart melts within me. “Yes, yes, my sweetlin’, my darlin’… no matter what you say, no matter if we disagree totally on something, Patrick, I will always love you. No matter what. Hear me, now?”

“Yes, Mama. Me too. You know.” He blushes as a couple of Space Force personnel walk by us, through the doorway, bearing breakfast carts. Their fragrant odors make my empty stomach rumble appreciatively, and I notice Pat’s eyes following them, too.

“Let’s go on this walk thing, and circle on back around. We’ll capture breakfast before the Ingolfsson pride devours it all in less than a minute.” I grin up at my son, and his hazel eyes mirror mine. He takes my hand in his, and we walk along a path by the buildings, fir trees and birch quaking before us in the morning breeze. The smell of the air is fresh, and sharp; the slightly musty smell of a forest, the tang of wood smoke, and occasionally, as the breeze shifts, a tantalizing whiff of food.

“Alexa and I talked last night, after the exercise. Which was totally, completely, slaggin’ boss. That’s what I want to do, Mama. Terraforming, and stuff like that. That’s what Alexa thinks, too. We talked about that, too, later. But we talked about… you know, love and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, we talked about how hard it is to define stuff, and stuff…”

“And stuff. Like, you know. Totally, dude…” I mimic, and we crack up. More seriously, I go on: “And what did you decide? You seem much happier today, my young man.”

“She likes me most intensely, and I like her the same way. It’s different from the way I love you, or Alice, or Aunt Jenny, or Unk Tom… but it’s just as real. It’s also different from the way I love Vicki. You know. Sex and stuff gets involved, and then everything gets all fuzzy and hard to tell what’s what.”

I kick a pine cone along as we walk. “Yep. Fuzzy it is. Know the feeling. You still ashamed of me, Pat?”

“No, not really. I don’t know why I said that, Ma. It just came out. There’s so much down inside, and sometimes it just comes out, and then I feel bonzer bad and rotten. I was just so mad, and hurt, and I guess I wanted to make you hurt, too. Forgive me for being a jerk?”

“Yes, Sir Jerklet. No, seriously, we’re friends, as well as being mom and son. That’s rare, in itself, and we have to work on it to keep it that way. I really value you as a friend, and… well, friends need to be able to say what they need to say, and if the relationship is strong enough, it’s gonna survive. I think ours can, as long as we keep working at it, keep honest with each other.”

I stop and turn to him, noticing how the sunlight brings out highlights of lighter colored hair in his long, thick, dark mop. A feeling of love rushes through me, and I fight the lump in my throat for a moment. He looks like Peter, and like me; I hope he has the best of us both, I think, and missed the worst. “Patrick, listen. We’re going through a time in human history like no other. So many damn changes, and I don’t expect you to agree with me all the time. But let’s try to stay friends, stay where we can talk like this. I need that, and I think you need that, too.”

“You know, you’re right. I was thinking about that this morning, Ma.” His teenage face looks older for a moment, and I see how he’ll look when he’s my age. “We have to work together, even if we don’t agree all the time. And you’ve been around Draka longer than me, so maybe you can give me some hints or pointers.”

“Glad to try, old boy. Glad to try. Unk Tom will be happy to help, too, and Andri. They’d have more of a guy’s perspective on stuff. But that’s great. I feel so much better now. This stuff is damn hard to work out by yourself, but friends help. I wouldn’t have made it through all the changes I went through, back before the Project, and the Arrival, without Peter, and Alice, and Jennifer… Tom, Shawonda, Ruthann… they all pitched in and helped me, and I helped them. We survive that way, honey.”

My voice turns hard for a moment. “We survive. That’s the goal right now. One day, freedom, and the universe, but right now, survival of the human race. I don’t want us to be erased like…”

“Like what a certain Archon wants? And plans on doing?” His voice lowers instinctively, and I glance from side to side, involuntarily. I think: Sensors can pick up our whispers, no trouble at all, thank you very much, but maybe no one’s listening. Or if they are, they won’t care too much. I am a Councilor, after all; not much in the way of power, but there is some leeway built in.

“Yes. You know who, and what they’re doing. Muhmis is fighting that, and some other stuff…”

He nods, his eyes darkening. “I know. Truly. Can’t talk about it, but I know.”

“Oh?” I look over at him, and reach out for his hand.

“Yeah. So, I understand, kinda. It’s just hard sometimes, Mama…”

“Ach, that’s what they all say… men, schmen…” I imitate Jenny’s heavy New Yawk accent, and we laugh together, his husky baritone and my lighter contralto mixing. “Come on, let’s go eat. We can talk more, if you want to, whenever you want to. Although I must say, I’m more of an evening person, if you catch my drift, young man…”

“Yeah, yeah… but so’s Alexandra,” Patrick chortles, blushing as he realizes what he just said. I squeeze his upper arm, feeling the smooth strength of muscle beneath the sweatshirt, and laugh softly.

“Gwen is any time at all… in fact, I just managed to escape her this morning, so I could come talk with you…”

He looks down, still blushing. I roll my eyes. “Hey, Patrick, if we’re going to be friends, you have to get over this embarrassment thing about me and sex.”

“You’re a good one to talk. That one vidshow Alexa brought back from the PrimeLine had you hiding your face, and your ears turned crimson…”

“Well… I just never saw anything like that in all my born days. I didn’t know you could do some of the things they were… well, doing. In a manner of speaking. Gads… that was embarrassing. You can’t tell me you didn’t blush at all, kiddo…”

“Not as much as you, Madame Most Fair Complected… you and Alice about had a ‘conniption fit’, or something…” Laughing, arm in arm, we walk back to the building, and breakfast.

**  
I close down the connection and begin to smile. Then I begin to laugh. 

Alice shivers a little and looks up from her desk. “Who got skinned?” she says.

“Alexis,” I say, and my laughter peals out over the office. “He just doesn’t realize it yet, and oh, how surprised he’s going to be.”

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asks, smiling at me.

“Oh, yes. He shouldn’t have tried to push me. Everyone who’s ever tried that has ended up sorry and sore, or very dead. Alexis is a very formidable fellow, but he just doesn’t know where to stop – and I got a number of others to agree that he has to be shown some limits. It didn’t occur to him that even people who agree with his policies might want him slapped down.” I snarl, loud and harsh. “Had to pay for it, but I got the support I need. Now it’s all over but the gloating. Until next time, of course.”

Alice shivers again, and smiles; I cut back my pheromones. She’s not really frightened though – or rather, she is but she’s not mentally frightened; she knows the aggression isn’t directed at her. And she enjoys the physical sensations a bit, knowing she’s safe. Like being on a roller-coaster, as she put it.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I say. I had to pay a price for this, but I won… there are times I’d like to just blow the link with the Prime Line, though. There are a hundred thousand of us here now, and a full tech base – and it would be impossible to reestablish, if we didn’t put out a beacon… oh, stop daydreaming, Ingolfsson.

Fall is a lovely time of year here in the Bluegrass, and most of all in the evenings. Indian Summer, the local humans call it; full of a lingering light and old magics. One of the house dogs drops in beside us as we leave the west-wing exit; it’s a retriever, mostly May’s, looking bored and friendly and waving its feathered tail. The gardens have a few lingering flowers, and I nod as we pass a gardener raking faded-gold leaves into piles like a child’s picture of pirate treasure. The lawns have that last burst of greenness that comes with the first frosts. I take the cool-musty scent of it, a long deep breath. We walk down the tree-lined lane to the Quarters, nodding now and then to passers-by, a farm-wagon, a floater full of vegetables going up to the manor. Along the way we pass a plow-team resting by the edge of the field before calling it a day, and the scent of the dark-browned turned earth in the furrows is as rich as new bread, mingled with the sweat of horse and human. The plowman bows, and I nod – so does Alice, a little regally. 

The Quarters are a little village now, with several hundred estate-saafn; there’s a generation coming up born here, or raised most of their lives. There are tree-lined streets of stone-and-tile cottages with lawns and kitchen-gardens out back; brick sidewalks and glow globes, a church – several, in fact – school, a clinic and town hall with swimming pool, tennis courts and stage for amateur theatricals, besides the utilitarian buildings on the other side of the creek. Folk are bustling about the green square in the center of town, children playing on the grassy center around the empty white bandstand; May’s dog exchanges whuffles and sniffs with the mutts chasing frisbees and tumbling-wrestling with the young saafn. There’s a crowd in the bleachers at the school, watching a Little League game, and another in the Bluegrass Arms – there’s a big holoprojector in the taproom, and I can hear a massed groan as they follow a football match somewhere. I’m down here fairly frequently, on business, or sometimes to take my pleasure with a saafn who’s caught my eye, and everyone knows Alice as well. A ripple of informal-level bows accompanies me, but nobody intrudes; some of the people on the verandahs call greetings. Here the smells are more of wood smoke from the chimneys, healthy humans, and the evening meal cooking.

“Pat’s a bit different, since you got back from the Space Force training center in Tennessee,” Alice says.

I nod. “We had a bit of a crisis, but it was resolved fairly well,” I say.

“Erin told me,” Alice says. “It’s not an easy time of life… I talked it over with Alexa, too.”

“No,” I agree. Good to hear she did, I think. Alexa’s close to bother of them – even closer than I was to Marya. They can talk over more, and more frankly. “Not easy for either of them, but I think they’re bonding very well now. I’m glad; I like the boy.”

“Me too,” she says. “He’s a right bloody pain now and then, but that’s just spirit.”

I nod again. “Alexa rides him with a lighter rein than I would, but it seems to work,” I say. “We’re still working out how… things will be arranged here on Earth/2.”

We come to a pond, a little lake I had made by damming a stream – crik, they call it here. It’s a teardrop shape of blue deepening to indigo as the sun sinks, turning the high billowy clouds in the west to salmon-pink and cream-white. Alice and I sit on a log bench under a Babylonia willow and watch fish jump after insects – the mosquitoes don’t bother us, I smell wrong and the new genegeneered version we’ve spread here won’t bite humans, either. The rings of water ripple out in a soothing symmetry; a flight of ducks comes in, V-formation, and lands. Their wakes are a series of smaller V’s. I look up; a few stars are coming out, though a human wouldn’t see them yet. On its hill the manor lights are a blaze of color, looking out over the quiet landscape. I can hear birds, small beasts, a deer further away, the lumbering scuffle of a bear in the woods a quarter-mile to the south – this district is beginning to get a decent amount of wildlife back, now that it’s all under Draka settlement. Lights go by overhead, aircars and heavier lifters; I can see the fast-moving glow of half a dozen orbital habitats, as well.

Alice sighs and leans her head against my shoulder. “Pretty,” she says.

We kiss, and I stand, pulling her up. “Dinnertime,” I say. “You’ll eat with me tonight.”


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter 6

The stack of notes on my desk isn’t getting any smaller, it seems, no matter how often I check one off and reach for another. I think they’re breeding or something. Sighing, I run my hands through my hair, staring at my desk. Another prompt from my transducer; this time it’s Tom. I decide to answer it. Yes?

Hi, Erin. Um… do you have the ecodiversity report ready for me to go over yet? He sounds a bit wary; I snapped Jennifer’s head off, just about, a few minutes ago. Unlike me, I think. Have to work on that, too.

No. Not yet. It’s almost ready to go, but I haven’t final checked it yet. Give me about an hour, and it’ll be waiting on your transducer’s doorstep. Promise.

Okay, thanks… an hour?

Gahhh… these people are making me meshuggeneh!! Yes, Tom, an hour, dammit!

There’s a moment of silence, in my head, and then he quietly says, Thanks. I’ll be waiting for it.

Yeah, right, I bet you will… I begin to think to myself, and stop. This stress… for the last seven weeks or so, I muse, counting backwards, this has been life. Demands, questions, stomping out little personnel fires, dealing with a teenage son and daughter, a wife who’s mad at me, a Muhmis who’s hornier than hell ‘cause she’s stressed, too… Man. This is too much. Just too much. The Archonal Council meeting here in just about twenty four hours, too. Yeesh.

My back pops as I stand up. With a sudden burst of anger, I sweep everything off my teakwood desk, into the trash bin. My assistants look up, startled. Just then, Yannan comes in, obviously in a hurry. 

“Sera Erin?”

“Just Erin, doofus,” I sigh, looking down at the floor, where the last of the papers are floating to rest on my loafers. “What now?”

“Well, I can’t find Ser Henry, or Sera Alice… and the local grocer just informed me there’s no more lobster, anywhere in the state… I don’t know what to—”

“Great God Almighty! All this shit, and lobster, too?!” I yell. There’s a stunned silence in the room, and then Yannan, his handsome, tanned face pale now, begins to back away, hands held out before him. His quiet sobs reach me, through my haze of tiredness and pure, white-hot anger, and I feel like a real schmuck. A jerkoid, as Patrick would say. He called me that earlier in the week when I wouldn’t let him go on a weekend skiing jaunt to the Alps with Alexandra, due to his grades…

I walk toward Yannan, and hold my hands out. He continues to back away, shaking. I realize I’ve probably just scared the living hell out of him; I’ve never, ever yelled at him like that before. I mean, this guy gets upset if I make jokes about Gwen, for god’s sake… He continues to back away, his face still pale, tears rolling down. Yannan’s whispering, and it takes me a moment to figure out what he’s saying, since he’s saying it so fast, and in between sobs.

“Please, please, … forgive me, forgive me for intruding… I didn’t know what to do, you always have the answers… please, please, please…”

I feel sort of sick to my stomach; the knot of rage unties to form a pool of shame, and I’m sinking in it, but fast. “Yannan. Yannan, listen to me, stop this. Stop it, right now.”

He stiffens, standing still, his head down, hands still palm up in a gesture of supplication. I’ve been in that position before, with Gwen, I realize. It sure as hell doesn’t feel good to see it from the other side. “Yannan, I… I’m sorry. Jeezie petes, I’m sorry. I was a schmuck, a fool. It’s not your fault; you’re not in trouble. Stop, please stop, crying. I’m sorry, okay?”

He nods, but stays in the position. It’s what he’s almost hard-wired to do, I think. Not only culture but biology’s at play here. I sigh, heavily, and turn around. My crew of eight, capable, hard-working, loyal folks, are all on their feet, pale and silent. The room feels like the air before a thunderstorm breaks, and I hate it. I have to get out of this, away from it, or I’m going to go completely cattywonkers, I think to myself. “Guys, hey… we’ve all been working damn hard. I’m sorry. Yelling was unprofessional of me, and I apologize to everyone. Nothing personal, please believe that. Yannan, that means you, too. Please,” I say, my voice softening as I go along. “I just… I haven’t had much sleep, I know none of has had much… I just… I need some time to myself, and then we’ll get everything wrapped up and ready for the conference tomorrow. We’re almost there… Give me a few minutes.”

I walk past Yannan, almost brusquely, not wanting anyone to see my tear-filled eyes. It’s embarrassing enough that I lost my temper in front of everyone. I’ve never done that; it’s as much a shock to me as to them. Once outside, I look around for any Draka, and then break into a sprint. If they saw me running, the natural impulse for them would be to pounce on me, I think, like a cat on a mouse. The years of workouts and the Citizen-level medical care Gwen gives her personal saafn pays off, and I’m down one of the dirt lanes in a flash. I run until I can’t run any more, finally coming to rest by the side of a chuckling creek. I kick off my shoes, and then strip off my sweat-soaked tunic. Tossing it on the grass, I kneel by the waterside and cry, hard and long. 

The tears seem to come to an end, leaving me feeling buzzed from the run but incredibly tired. Still angry, too. Our teams have worked together so well; the Project and everything, I think; what’s changed, besides us getting older, and Peter not being here? He would have cut me off at the pass, that’s for sure, giving me some queeny put down to remind me gently that I was becoming such an ogre. Such a bitch, making Yannan cry like that… jeeze, what’s wrong with you, girl?

The fight Alice and I had last night wasn’t so great, either. Like any couple, we’ve had ups and downs, but we’ve always been able to work things out, talk them out. We’ve both been working so damn hard, and Gwen’s been kinda demanding on me, more so than on Ally… maybe some jealousy there. I don’t know. All I know is that I left work early yesterday, went home and whipped up a home cooked meal, put flowers and candles out, and was greeted by a very angry Australian. She burst in the door, cussing, wanting to know why I’d shunted calls from my transducer all afternoon… I hadn’t, only while I was cooking. Then she said some things, and I said a few things myself, and I ended up storming out, leaving her amidst the shattered remains of a romantic evening. I slept in my chair in the office last night, and my back feels like it. Shit. And I wanted us to have a teeny bit of time to relax last night, just the two of us. She thought I was avoiding her, because of some reports she hadn’t finished. Man…

Patrick’s had a pickle up his butt for the last week, because of the no-go on the skiing trip. He varies between being fun and easy to talk to and being a real asshole. It makes me so confused… and May’s following right along. She and Ariadne have been either lovebirds or birds of war, and it’s a revolving stage. You never know which mood they’re in, until you say something. You get either “Ma!” or “Hmph!”. Not a lot to talk about, either way. Was I that bad? It must be frustrating in the House to be unable to slam a door—they are all very politely constructed, un-slammable. They just shush shut. I’ve slammed my share of doors, that’s for sure, until Papaw made me take my door off and rehang it all by myself. That cured that…

I pick up a handful of rocks and begin throwing them, with a grunt of effort after each one, as far and as hard as I can, down the creek. Their splashes aren’t very soul satisfying, and I feel the strain in my back as I hurl the last one, following it with a curse Chief Gray, back on the Nimitz, taught me… a horse’s snuffle answers, and a low chuckle.

I jump and turn around, seeing Gwen, clad in riding pants and a silk shirt, astride her favorite horse, a gelding named Windfire. She’s leaning on her hands, the English saddle beneath her legs wet with sweat. Her shirt’s plastered to her, and my eyes drink in her lines. The horse walks down to the water and after a perfunctory sniff at me, looking for a cube of sugar, he dips his head to the creek and drinks, long and loud. Gwen swings off his back and lands, cat-agile, next to me, her legs flexing slightly to take the weight. “Pretty good arm you’ve got, younglin’…”

She picks up a couple of rocks and with a flick of her wrist, sends them about four times further down the creek bed than my hardest effort. The rocks skim off the water and finally plash to a landing. The horse looks up for a moment, and then continues drinking. The birds pick back up where they left off singing, and the little glade is peaceful for a moment. I’m conscious of my sweat, and Gwen’s, a sharper, different smell than mine. She smells like she does after a major workout, and a little horsey. It’s not bad, though, I think, smiling slightly. She grins back at me, sweeping stray strands of mahogany red hair from her face.

“Why so angry? I could smell that, even before I heard you, and that interesting little saying you hurled, after that last rock…” Muhmis says, one hand on her hip, the other stroking the neck of Windfire. Her leaf green eyes stare into mine, and she waits for an answer.

“Wellll…” I pause, looking for words to explain. “I just threw a hissy fit; I made Yannan cry; I shocked the hell out of my assistants; Ally and I haven’t spoken since last night, when we had the worst fight of our lives together; Patrick and May are mutating into creatures from beyond, and hate me…” I try to laugh, but it comes out as a sniff.

Gwen comes closer, and takes my hand in hers. “Stress. I know. The meeting, the thing we’re all worried about, is tomorrow. Then, afterwards…”

“What?” Her voice is cool, serious, and I look up to see her staring off, across the creek and across centuries, universes. “What then, Muhmis?”

The red hair shakes as she laughs, a long, low chuckle. “If you’d had one of your dreams, we’d both know, darlin’… No, seriously… I’m not sure. A lot depends on how things work out. But one thing for damn certain. When the meeting’s done, and all the Planetary Archons are gone, and Alexis is, too, then you and I need some time to talk, and think.”

“I’m scared. Scared, tired… sore,” I reply, rubbing my lower back with my free hand. She pulls me to her, and I inhale her scent, the warmth of her body somehow reassuring in the shade of the buckeye trees. She runs her hands down my back, expertly caressing, tugging. I feel tension flowing out of me, and there’s a loud pop as something shifts along my spine.

“All right? Was that painful?”

“No, not painful… the relief feels great, Muhmis… thanks,” I grin up at her. Gwen reaches down and strokes the tear tracks on my face, her long thumbs leaving trails of heat behind them. Her lips touch my forehead, then my nose, finally landing on my lips for an intense, yet tender, kiss. We stand like that for what seems like aeons; my hands stroke down her flanks of their own accord, and I feel the long rippling muscles move beneath my fingers. One of Muhmis’ legs slides between mine, and she lifts me slightly. I gasp as she begins to rock me, my weight increasing the delicious friction…

**  
The horse has wandered over to some grass, and is munching contentedly, yanking bits up and chewing them slowly. The sweat’s dried on his back and flanks, leaving dark patches and light. His black coat looks shimmery, I think, as I sit up from Gwen’s arms, shading my eyes. Our clothes lie strewn about the little opening by the creek. Any little critters around here must have gotten an eyeful, I smile to myself. I think I surprised Gwen with my strength, my passion. I’m usually not so… assertive. Remembering, I blush, and she slides a fingertip down my spine, tickling. 

“Feel better now, my precious one?” Her voice is a mellow purr; I know I satisfied her as well as I have ever managed to do, and the knowledge makes me feel warm and gentle toward her. I nod, unable to speak quite coherently at the moment, and lie back down next to her in the grass and leafy shade. She draws a leaf stem along my breasts and we both watch my nipples harden… her head bends to me, and I groan softly, deeply. My hands run through her unbound hair, letting skeins of deep red, thick tresses web through my hands. The late afternoon sun shines through them, and for a moment, there’s just the two of us in the world, lit by gentle twilight, the sounds of birds and tinkling water weaving around us. No politics, no boundaries, no fear… just two women, two people, pleasuring and being pleasured. The time seems to drift, and I wish it could last…

I sigh, finally, and Gwen sits up between my legs. She grins, and nods her head toward the setting sun. Its fiery rays light up a bank of cumulus clouds like the pictures I’ve seen of Southwestern sunsets, lurid and delicate at the same time. The birds are quieter now, having found their perches for the evening. Windfire ambles over and nudges Gwen’s head, and she laughs delightedly, stroking his chin with a strong, tanned hand. She stands, and then easily picks me up, putting me on my feet and kissing me, long and hard.

“Time to get back to it, sweetlin’…thank you for this, these moments, Erin. I needed you,” her husky whisper tickles in my ear, and shivers of delight cascade down my back. I kiss her shyly on the cheek, and she chucks me under the chin. I pick up her clothes, and dress her; she takes her riding boots and puts them in the small saddlebag on the back of Windfire. Barefoot, she vaults into the saddle, and the horse whickers happily. I dress quickly and start to walk up the path toward the road; my feet aren’t very happy in the leather loafers, and I take them off, feeling the dry dust fluff between my toes. It’s a comfort feeling, one that takes me back to innumerable walks with my childhood friend Luann, and then all the way forward in time to a walk Ruthann and I took, a few months before she and Peter were killed by the terrorists. The memory makes me stop and smile, and their faces seem to float before me.

Windfire comes up next to me, and Gwen strokes the curly hair on the top of my head. “Come on up here, Erin. Ride back with me; it’d be quite a long walk for you in the dark.” The twilight deepens as she speaks and I hear the calling of whippoorwills. A few late-coming blackbirds wing over us, chittering rapidly and I watch them disappear in the purpling sky.

“Um… I’m okay… that’s a mighty big horse, Gwen…” I grin nervously up at my Muhmis, who laughs down at me. Her hand extends, commanding, and I bow my head, obeying.

“Put your foot in the stirrup, and then hold onto my hand, my pretty-girl,” she says, and I do so, hoisting myself somewhat awkwardly onto the back of Windfire. He prances a bit as I settle down behind Gwen, wrapping my arms tightly around her slender waist. Her shirt smells of her, and grass, and I lean against her, relishing the heat between us. I feel her thighs move slightly and the horse begins to trot up the hillside, following the path. 

Then we’re on the dirt road, and she urges Windfire into a flowing gallop that takes my breath away. Clinging to her, I shut my eyes as the trees on either side, tall black shadows now, flick by. I hear her snarl of joy, and she raises her voice to a shout of pleasure as the horse reaches its full stride, carrying us over the ground as if he was winged instead of hooved. Like riding behind Gandalf, I think, grinning. The stars are coming out overhead, and the moon’s peeking up over the horizon, orange red and almost full. I look up into the night, wondering where we’re all going, now…

**  
“Where have you two been…” Alice begins, running down the stairs of the front entrance, her white dress billowing out behind her in the night breeze. I’m too breathless to answer, merely grinning down at her from behind Muhmis, who knees the horse to a canter and then to a stop before the steps.

“Riding, in one way or another, Alice my girl,” Gwen jokes, one hand stroking down my thigh. I giggle, hiding my face against her back. I’m still a shy ole country girl when it gets down to it; never been comfortable doing it right in the middle of everyone’s range of sight, like the Draka and the servus seem to enjoy sometimes. Alice smiles up at us, and I notice dark smudges under her eyes. So she didn’t sleep so well either, last night, I think.

Two houseboys run up and take the head of Windfire between them; one slips a carrot to the gelding, who happily snarfs it down. Gwen brings one leg over the saddle and then springs lithely to the drive. She turns to me, as I hang on to the back of the saddle and the saddle bag, nervous, and Muhmis holds out her hands. “Come to me, my sweetlin’, ma douce,” she says, and I lean toward her, trusting her to catch me before I do a face plant on the gravel driveway.

Feeling the strength, the easy way she catches me and sets me down on the terra firma so slowly, makes me remember this afternoon, and her touch, her moving me… a blush creeps up my face, and I hear Alice chuckle at my side. “Had fun, cobber-mine?”

“Um, well, yes. At least this afternoon was fun. I wonder if any of my assistants still want to work for me, if Yannan can bring himself to be near me, and if my wife will forgive me for being a goofball…”

Alice’s crushing hug is the answer, I realize, and we stand together for long moments. Gwen strokes our heads, blonde and dark blonde together, with her hands, and then walks in the House, leaving us to some privacy. The houseboys lead Windfire away to the stables, and it’s just the two of us in the cool evening, surrounded by blooming rhododendrons and some early lightning bugs. I nestle into Alice’s shoulder and whisper to her; her soft answers thrill my heart like nothing else in the world. We kiss deeply, and walk hand in hand up the marble steps, to our waiting dinner.

**  
Ari’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Telegraphing!” I sing out, as she launches herself. 

I pivot. My left hand comes up under her leg, my right sweeps across her torso, and the heartbreaking youthful grace of her motion turns into an undignified squawk-and-thump as her back hits the mat. My heel flashes down, ending with a focus-scream and the hard skin just barely touching the hollow of my daughter’s throat. 

“Damn!” she spits, then grins.

I pull her up from the mats by one hand. “You’ve got to stop relying on your instincts,” I say. They’re perfectly good instincts, but the problem is that we all have them. “Go work with Alexa on your forms.”

She groans a little at that, but obeys. Mom, do I have to? Alexa asks, but she’s got the manners to say it privately.

Yes, you do, I reply on the same link. Teaching helps you learn.

My elder child sighs, nods, and back flips across the big room, heading for the set of reed mats by the far wall. Ariadne follows, cartwheeling. I smile to watch their flamboyance, their joy in their awakening capabilities.

Over on the next mat, Tamarindus has Schalk de Lange in a neck-breaking hold in a grapple; their bare limbs move in a final flurry, and then his palm strikes the ground in concession. They roll backward and flex-jump to their feet. Neither is marked, much – a few grazes and streaks of blood here and there. They turn their eyes on me and I nod subliminally.

Tamar comes in from the left, bouncing and then striking high towards my head. De Lange dives forward on his hands and swings his body like a scythe, coming at me low from the right. I flip backward, rolling…

Ten minutes later we’re all standing, laughing companionably; de Lange straightens a broken finger while I pop Tamar’s shoulder back into place. Marie-Claire comes forward at his nod and strips a set-film out of a dispenser to hold it more securely. She’s a little wide-eyed; a useful meditech now that Shawonda has moved up to full-fledged physician for the Household.

“I needed that,” I say to my companions.

The big airy room is warm, despite the wall open to the courtyard garden. It’s classic in its simplicity, stone walls, wooden floors, exposed beams in the ceiling overhead. Racks along the walls hold weapons, and a niche has an arrangement of willow buds and iris. The air is heavy with summer scents, flowers, cut grass, sweat, the crackly scent of drakensis excitement – not quite killrage, but close enough to make my eyes sparkle and hair bristle. Along their wall my daughters are moving in perfect coordination, facing each other like images in a mirror that produces slight changes, moving blurring-fast. Good reflexes, both of them, I think.

They end with a sissssa! And a mutual strike that would cave in larynxes if it was continued, waiting like statues in the final stance, sweat sheening on bodies naked save for the memfabric shorts we’re all wearing. 

“I did too,” Tamar says. “This conference – ” She bares her teeth in a snarl, miming frustration now rather than expressing it.

“Tell me,” de Lange says feelingly; my Household security chief has been picking up local expressions. “Coordinating with everyone’s house-troops is murder. You’d think this was a war zone; the Epsilon II Archon’s people wanted to hang a bloody great warship overhead the whole time.”

All five Draka walk over to the archway that leads into the tile and marble and steam of the baths; our saafn are waiting. Pat’s studying with his mother, but Alice is there to wipe me down, and May and Vicki for my daughters. We shower, swim, then relax in the hot room on the massage tables.

“Paranoia is an occupational hazard with you security types,” I tease Schalk gently. 

“They’re paranoid, I’m sensibly cautious,” he grins back at me, as Billy-Bob kneads his shoulders. 

“If you think you’re got problems, you should hear my steward,” I say. “We’ll get through it.”

Manfrit Gorewind, the Archon of Epsilon II, doesn’t worry me. The settlement there was always rather small – planetary ecology was harsher than anticipated – and he’ll probably go with the consensus. Felice Vashon… I think I’m confident of our agreement. Alexis… well, will be Alexis. The other three out-system Archons are the unknown factors, and my communications with them – except by courier and personal visit – have had to go through the Prime Line net.

The youngsters have tuned us out, mostly; I can hear them giggling among themselves. Carefree, I think.

**  
Mom and the others get up and go out, towels over their shoulders, still talking politics as they split up. “Glad I don’t have to get that serious yet,” I say.

“Harder, Vicki,” Alexa says, then: “You’ve got that right, sprout. See ya at dinner.” To Vicki: “Let’s go see if we can spring Pat from Chief Warden Tantie-Ma.”

“You know,” I say to May, “I wish she didn’t still treat me like a kid.”

“Well, hell, Ari,” May says. “I wish Pat didn’t treat me like a kid. Or my moms. Or… well, actually, I’m sort of glad your mother still treats me like a kid.”

We laugh over that – I found out how Mom got Alexa to remember to put the no-touch on Pat’s transducer -- and head up to the second floor ourselves. I nod to some of the house-servants, but everyone’s really busy; the first of the Archons is arriving tomorrow. There’s plenty of space, the manor was built for this sort of thing, but everyone’s working really hard.

**  
The night’s cool breezes feel good against my skin. I lean back against Alice, nestling my head between her ample breasts, relishing the touch. We’ve finished dinner; Gwen let us have it sent up to our rooms, and she ate with Jennifer and Tom. Yannan and Rosta served us, and I had a heart-to-heart with Yannan in our kitchen. He understands, I think, that it was a highly unusual thing, and that it wasn’t personally directed at him when I snapped out. Like a dang alligator snapping turtle, I think; I lunged out and bit the shit out of him. Hugs and kisses, and now I think we’re okay. I hope so.

The lovemaking after dinner had been exquisite; Alice at her best, and me not far behind, despite my afternoon with Muhmis. The time was well-spent; we’re both relaxed and happy now. Discussion afterwards revealed our misunderstandings and misconceptions. Laughs and sniffles followed each explanation and then more touching… I sigh, feeling all tingly, and Alice chuckles softly in the darkness. We’re stretched out on a lounger on our patio, naked to the stars above. I’m not too hip on being nude in nature; too many opportunities for scratches or other injuries to sensitive places… this afternoon was a change in that routine, though, I think, fingering some scratches along the back of my left thigh. Alice wraps her arms around me, squeezing.

“Oh, gods, Erin… this is lovely, simply bonzer lovely…” she whispers. I laugh softly, hearing her accent become heavier and enjoying her use of the current teen lingo. We were like a couple of teens, I muse, making out like mad mink. 

“Yeah, love… it is,” I agree, tilting my head up to see her face. “Thanks for being so, well, um, understanding, and letting us work things out. I’m sorry I was such an ogre…”

“You and me, both, lover. Sorry, too… glad we can talk things out. I was scared, last night, after you left. Didn’t sleep worth a damn, either.”

“At least you had a bed. My hair may be a great office fixture, but a bed it ain’t…” I grin, stroking my hands across her arms, feeling the silky, down-soft hairs under my fingers. Her blonde hair has tumbled down over us, shimmering gold and silver in the moonlight. The scents of wood smoke and fresh-cut grass compete for attention. The House has been all spruced up for the meeting tomorrow… today, now, I think, as I check the time with my transducer. It’s past midnight. Shooting stars sparkle the night sky, and we both gasp at the same time. “Make a wish, quick, Ally…”

“I know what I’m wishing for, lover mine…” Alice whispers to me. She kisses the top of my head and I giggle, wriggling in her arms as she explores me anew. I hear a small noise at the door and look up to see Rosta, nude in the moonlight, and Yannan, behind her. He’s caressing her, and she’s watching us avidly. She sees me looking at her, and delicately licks her lips; her hands rise up and cup her breasts, pale and full in the half-light. Her nipples are ridged, hard, and my heart lurches in my chest. Alice laughs as she discovers how excited I am… the two servus come to us, kneeling on either side of the lounger. Oh, my gawd… Hands and tongues grow busy, and the night spins into dawn. 

**

Erin? Awake? Muhmis’ voice echoes in my head. I jolt awake, bumping into Yannan, who’s sprawled across me. He jostles Rosta, and the chain reaction ends with Alice yawning and wondering aloud who has ahold of her hand…

Y-y-yes, Muhmis, I think so… now. I’m awake now. I bat Yannan’s hands away from what he wants to do, grinning. He merely substitutes lips for fingers and I gasp, arching upwards. Um, I am a teensy bit… um… ahhhh… busy, Muhmis….

Oho, yes you are, my little scamp. But finish up soon, so we can eat breakfast together, all of my staff, Gwen says, her voice warm and amused. She sends me a visual; Tom is making Jennifer extremely happy, and Gwen’s enjoying them both. I blush even more deeply than I already am, and hear Alice and Rosta chuckling, echoing Gwen’s in my head.

Yes, Muhmis… give me… uhh…

Fifteen minutes for fun, then ten to get presentable. Wear your House tunic and skirt today, sweetlin’. Alice, too. Muhmis signs off and I’m left to the creative embraces of my wife and our two servants…

Twenty five minutes later, I’m sitting down at the informal dining room table, which is laden with breakfast. The smell of fresh bread makes me feel absolutely ravenous, and I break apart some rolls so hot I can’t hold them for long. The butter melts instantly, and I load my plate with some home-cured bacon, and some grapefruit as well. The orange juice is fresh-squeezed, and I snarf down a couple of glasses before starting on my food and my morning coffee. Its fragrance is heavy, and I inhale it with delight. Best coffee I’ve ever had, I think… this is PrimeLine Kenya, I do believe. Hmm… we usually just have our own version, which is almost as tasty. This is a special day, though. I’ll be damn glad when it’s over…

“Me, too, my pretty-girl,” murmurs Gwen, leaning down to kiss me firmly. “Did you have enough time, darlin’, for everything?”

“Mmmh-hmm.” I kiss her back, and she purrs, deep in her chest. She’s got her hair tied back tightly today; the angular planes of her face show clearly in the morning light, and her eyes sparkle, light green, with flecks of deeper color within them. Wearing her formal blacks, too, I notice. The gold piping along her collar, and the ruby dragons, are set off well by the deep ebony color of the fabric. Her boots shine; someone’s spent some time polishing those.

Jennifer sits down next to me, giving me a companionable peck on the cheek; Tom sits across from us, with a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile. We’re all wearing our formal Ingolfsson saafn House tunics, with gold and blue piping down collars and sleeves, around the cuffs. It’s understated, for Draka tastes, but then again, so’s Gwen, for a drakensis. Tom winks at Alice, who caresses me as she sits down; she hands us a bowl of fruit. I select an orange, and a couple of kiwi, and snarf them down, too. I’ve already cleared my plate once. The coffee service comes around again, and I enjoy my second cup of the day.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Gwen begins, eyeing Diane, who scoots in hurriedly, buttoning her tunic up as she sits down with us, “let’s go over what’s going to be on the agenda today. This is important, I don’t think I can emphasize that enough, and I expect everything to go well. It would not please me if something didn’t…”

We all pale slightly at her expression. I find my orange peel very interesting all of a sudden. God, I hope everything goes well, after all the work we’ve done, getting ready for this day. If it doesn’t… I shiver. Gwen goes on, smoothing her linen napkin along one thigh:

“In a few minutes, twenty three to be exact, the Planetary Archons from the Prime Line, and Earth/3, will be arriving, as well as the Archon, himself. Planetary governors from Mars and the Moon will be here, too. We’ll be using the main conference room; Erin, you’ll attend the meeting. The rest of you will be on hand, in case I need more information or clarification. Understood?” We all nod.

Sipping her steaming coffee, she smiles. “You’ve all done a wonderful job setting things up; I went over the reports last night, and everything seems to be in order. Basically, your work is done. For lunch, I’ll expect all of you to attend to the guests; after lunch, and any, ah, entertainment, we’ll be reconvening and finishing the conference. Some of them may stay the night; I know Tamarindus will be, and Gunnar Glynsson… not sure about the other’s plans.”

Diane is blushing furiously; she and uhmas Gunnar have been known to tear it up on occasion. I shiver, thinking of Alexis’ eyes on me the last time I met him. Oh, gods, I hope he doesn’t request me… maybe I’ll be too busy doing something for Gwen, or something… Gwen looks from Diane to me, her smile growing as she enjoys our obvious reactions.

“This conference will set the pace for development here; it will also either make me very powerful, more powerful than the Archon on PrimeLine, or… not. I think I know how it will go, but chance is always there. We’ve all been a bit tense the last few days, haven’t we?”

There’s a general chuckle of agreement around the table, and Jennifer toes me gently. I hang my head, blushing, and the chuckle grows into good-natured laughter. “I think we’re all more relaxed now, Muhmis, dear,” Jenny says, eyeing me cattily.

“I certainly hope so,” Gwen returns, her eyes running over me. The others laugh more, enjoying it. I know it’s partly to enjoy my discomfort, but if that’s the extent of their revenge, that’s fine with me. I hold up my hands, surrendering.

“Yeah, yeah… I was an ogre, and I’m sorry. I’ve apologized; now can everyone forgive and forget?”

“Forgive, certainly… forget? Hmmm… I might take some more convincing,” Jennifer says and Tom chimes in:

“Me, too…”

I roll my eyes, and my friends laugh; Gwen is devouring her breakfast with her usual gusto. Cinnamon buns are passed around; I notice Mavis started them at my place, and look up into her inscrutable gaze. To my surprise, she winks, once, so fast I wonder if I saw it at all. Her hand brushes against my shoulders, and I pluck two of the steaming buns from the plate. She knows they’re my favorite morning treat, too. If they had started down by Gwen, we probably would have gotten some cinnamon-flavored crumbs, though; Muhmis likes them more than I do. I grin, enjoying the buns, and the warmth that Mavis’ kind thought leaves behind.

The breakfast is over far too soon, as the first aircars whip by overhead. Gwen rises, tossing her napkin down on the table, and gestures for me to follow her. We walk together, me a step and half behind her, to the right, down the marble-flagged walkway to the landing pad. It’s starred with tiny red and white flowers, a tough organic mat, and the smell of peppermint is strong as the first craft lands gently. The honor guard, the ghouloons all brushed out neatly, stands ready; the Space Force major looks nervous in her dress blues, but she snaps out the commands clearly.

Felice Vashon walks from the aircar, eyes roving over the grounds. They meet Gwen’s, and there’s an electric moment of silence between the two Draka. I kneel by Gwen’s side, bowing; hands in front of my face. I wait for my Muhmis to command me to rise, and study the flowers at my feet. Their tiny florets are multicolored, I realize, but the red and white seem to be the main hues. The breeze carries sounds from the farms beyond, and the ghosts of children laughing on their way to school. I hear a hawk cry, far overhead. The two drakensis stand facing each other, and the tension that’s there frightens me.

“Service to the State, Planetary Archon Ingolfsson.”

“Glory to the Race, Planetary Archon Vashon,” Gwen replies, her voice carrying overtones I can’t interpret. The two move together suddenly, and for a moment I’m afraid they’re going to fight or something. I catch my breath sharply, and then realize they’re exchanging wrist clasps. “Welcome to Gwendolyn Hall, Felice. I’m glad you could make it.”

“Lovely place, truly, Gwen. Big, too…” Felice looks around, eyes taking in the beauty of Gwen’s Landholding. “Pretty flight over, this morning, from the Arrival Point.”

“Yes, I thought this area was nice. Good horse country, and you know how I enjoy them. I’ll have to show you my herd, after the meeting, perhaps, or after lunch… rise, Erin d’Ingolfsson.” Gwen pats me gently on the head with her hand, and I stand, smoothly, at her side. My eyes stay cast down, though, as she’s taught me. Protocol means so much to these people; I don’t want to mess up, I think silently to myself. Tom’s better at this stuff than I am…

“Pretty, indeed. One of your favorites, I’m sure,” murmurs Felice. Her steel-hard hand reaches out and jerks my chin up, so that I’m looking directly at her. Cool grey eyes look into mine, and the sense of being sized up like one of Gwen’s stud horses or mares comes to my mind. “Archaics tend to be so variable in looks, but this one’s certainly a pretty-girl.”

“Pretty-girl with a good brain,” Gwen says, a smile on her face but a slight warning tone to her voice. “And yes, she happens to be my favorite human saafn. Very important to the success of the Project, actually, and to the peaceful Arrival here.”

“Hmm. Death-duel on her, too. You must be serious, then. You Ingolfssons always tend to be so sentimental about saafn, though.” Felice smiles back, a baring of the teeth. Her eyes don’t smile and I shiver, in her grip. She looks back at me, and drops my chin. Giving me a last look up and down, she turns to her serfs, waving them up and forward. “This one’s one of my favorites; Hela. He’s been part of my staff for over twenty years. The others are merely playthings; I prefer servus to archaic, unless I’m in the mood to ride a wild pony.”

Hela bows; auburn hair, short on top, long on the sides, imitating the popular style amongst Draka, bobs in the sunlight. Gwen smiles at him, looking him over coolly. His skin’s milk-white; eyes black as night. He makes me think of a vampire, I realize, and I’m damn careful not to subvocalize that thought. He looks at me, or rather, through me, and his smile is as cold as his owner’s. Hmmm. This will be an interesting day, for sure, I think to myself.

Gwen’s voice in my mind: Don’t mind him; he’s merely doing to you what Felice was trying to do with me, intimidate. Ignore it, my sweet. But don’t, for love of Race Spirit, insult him or any of the others. Understand?

Yes, Muhmis, perfectly. No insults, believe me. Can she hear us?

No. This is private. Just be damned careful around her and hers. All right?

Yes. I look up as two other aircars come in for landing. One bears the gold fist of the Archon on it; the other’s a plain one like the one Vashon arrived in. I feel some sweat beginning to trickle down my sides. I’m really afraid of Alexis Renston. The aircars smoothly settle to the pad and hatchways dial open. As the personal drakensis bodyguards of the Archon descend, the ghouloons and the Space Force major, as well as myself, sink to our knees, our faces to the ground. The servus saafn of Vashon go more smoothly to the position of submission, I notice. My stomach commences tying itself into a knot; I wish I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

The Archon approaches, and I hear Gwen, then Felice, exchange greetings with him. His flanking Draka greet the Planetary Archons, and one looks down at me; I feel their eyes on me as I stay on my hands and knees. A drop of sweat slips down my nose, and I wish I could bat it away, but don’t dare to move. It eventually drops into the flowers, making a tiny lake in the center of one fragrant blossom. Gwen’s hand on my head signals me, and I stand, shivering a bit. I hear a soft laugh and then a hand reaches out, stroking down the side of my face.

“Ahhh, yes, I remember this one, Grandmother. Such a nice little wench. Still have that buck you mated with her? The one with the beautiful… oh. That’s right; I’m sorry, he’s the one those wretched humans killed. Too bad, truly; he was delightful-looking.” The hand pulls my head up, and I look into the eyes of the Draka who terrifies me the most. He smiles cruelly, enjoying my speeding heart, the scent of fear I know he can pick up. “How’d the breeding go, by the way? Buck or wench?”

“Buck. Named Patrick; he’s owned by my daughter, Alexandra. He got the best of both sire and dam; fine looking pretty-buck, with a mind as sharp as his mother’s, when he’s not in rut. Adolescent, now. Of course, we all know how they are…” Gwen laughs, and the other Draka join her. It sounds like a wolf pack; their short yipping merriment makes shivers go down my spine.

“Hmmm… I’d like to look him over, then… if your daughter won’t mind…”

Oh, my gawd, no… I can’t bear to think of Patrick with him; I’d rather be the poor person under him myself. I feel the fear creating a pool of ice in my stomach; Mavis’s cinnamon buns have disappeared. My eyes reach over to Gwen, pleading silently, hopelessly.

“Well, perhaps. But she’s pretty protective of him, and she’s not quite, well, eager, to share him. I’ll ask her about it, Alexis. Meanwhile, let me show you some of the other pretties for lunch. I’ve quite a good selection of them available for entertainment. Sound like a plan?”

“Oh, yes. You have such good taste in bucks, Grandmother. Always have,” Alexis laughs, and then strokes a long finger down my face, pausing at my lips. He traces them delicately, erotically. “Good taste in wenches, too. I know you must enjoy this one…”

“I do, indeed. Felice and I were just discussing that. Shall we walk to the House, now? Refreshments await, and the others will be here momentarily.” Gwen waves a regal hand toward the mansion, and there’s a chorus of agreement. The Draka lead off, and then Hela cuts in front of me when I turn to follow them. I let him, looking him up and down first, but remembering my Muhmis’ warning. Go on, foolish, I think silently to myself. The further I am from Alexis Renston, the happier…


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

Gwen expertly filets the trout, and sets it to cook on green wood skewers over the crackling fire. She sits back, and smiles at me. The smoke curls straight up, into the trees above us, and on into the bright blue sky. The morning mist has cleared off, leaving traces of itself in the surrounding hollers, just enough to look inviting and mysterious. Dew drips from wild rhododendron and sweet bay magnolia surrounding the clearing, and bird calls echo through the sun-shot woods all around us.

I recline in a camp chair, propping my hiking boots up on the fire pit rocks. I grin back, twirling a piece of grass in my mouth. We’ve been here only a couple of hours, but I already feel rejuvenated, relaxed. The meeting of the Archons seems to belong in the far distant past, part of history already. But I know one reason Gwen and I have come here, to my grandparents’ former land… to discuss what’s been decided and to do some problem solving, one-on-one. We seem to work well that way, after all these years. There’s always the distance, though, between us; the distance of owner and ownee, I guess, I think to myself.

The grilling fish smells lovely; I sit up and inhale sharply. The leafy smell of the woods, a mixture of pine and hardwood, comes to me clear and fresh. The scent of the soup bubbling in its pan makes me even hungrier, and I lean over it, stirring. It’s a thick soup, almost a gumbo. Even though it came from a packet, it’s damn good. Especially with the wild onions that Gwen added on an impulse.

Gwen stands up and walks over to the cabin. She emerges a few minutes later, grin white in the deep tan of her face. I look up, wondering about her merry look, and notice she’s holding something in one hand behind her back. 

“Hey, what’s behind you?”

“Hmm? Behind me?” She twirls, teasing me, keeping whatever it is from my sight. “Don’t see much…” Her laughter, bell-like, rings through the clearing, and the birds quiet down some. The wind tosses the tops of the trees gently, and I smile up into the face of my Muhmis.

“You’re being a scamp, now, Gwen…” I say. I jump up, and try to see what she’s hiding so obviously from me. I spend a few minutes, frustrated, trying to move around her to see, and finally give up. “Yeah, yeah, I should know by now, you’re too fast… I give up. What is it?”

“Sit down, close your eyes, and hold out your hand, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll show you.”

Holding out my hand, feeling silly, but intrigued, I wait. I feel her sit near me; the warmth from her body being so close washes over me, leaving me very… aware… of her. There’s a weight, velvety, placed on my hand, and I grasp it. It’s a velvet covered box of some sort, I can tell from the feel. “May I open my eyes now, Muhmis?”

“Yes, dear girl. Open!”

I do, and look down into my outstretched right hand. A black velvet case sits there. My curiosity itches, and I glance at her face, asking with my expression, my eyes, if I can open it. She nods, her red hair bright in the sun, and smiles warmly at me.

Opening the lid, I see a piece of parchment inside. I lift it into the light, and read it. To my darling Erin. Your constancy, your dedication, your beauty, your wit… this is a symbol of my thanks. With love, Gwendolyn. My mouth drops open, and I read the message again. And again. I look up into Gwen’s eyes, and see the affection there. She murmurs:

“Go on, look inside again. The note’s not the only thing, ma mignonne. Look…”

I place the note carefully on my leg and peer back inside the case. Inside, nestled in a silk cushion, is a gold chain with a tiny ruby dragon, identical to the ones she wears on her formal collars, hanging from it. On the breast of the dragon, an “E” is scripted, delicately, and inlaid with a thin copper-colored metal. I gasp, my heart thudding in my chest. “My god, Gwen… it’s… oh, jeezie petes… it’s exquisite, beautiful!”

“Let’s see it on you, then. An exquisite for an exquisite, perhaps?” She reaches over and takes the necklace, letting it shimmer brightly in the sun for a moment. Then she hooks it around my neck, letting the dragon fall down to my collarbones. It looks a little odd against my white tshirt, but at the moment, I don’t care a whit. The gold feels heavy against my skin, cool. Her fingers linger at my throat, stroking lightly.

I take her face between my hands and kiss her for a long, long moment. The words of the note flow through my mind… “Thank you, thank you, Gwen… it’s lovely, you shouldn’t have…”

“Oh, yes, I should have. I believe in rewarding excellence. You’re important to me in so many ways, not least of which is the way you kiss. Mmmhh, yes…”

A few minutes flash by and then we break. Gwen lets me up for air, and I laugh out loud. “Thanks… hate to have to bury me in this, so soon… air’s so darn important, y’know…” I poke her in the ribs with a forefinger; it’s like hitting a ribbed steel wall, so I’m careful to be gentle. Don’t want any sprained fingers, girlfriend, I think to myself. Gwen chuckles and sits up, and then hugs me, tightly. Holds me that way, both of us silent, until a log pops in the fire pit.

“Hate to have to bury you at all, my sweet, ever… hmm, the fish is done, soup’s ready, do we have plates?”

“And some forks, knives and spoons, coming right up,” I say, bounding to my feet and racing to the kitchen cabinets. I get the utensils and the plates and return to the fire, where Gwen’s taken the fish from cooking and places the hot food on our plates. They’re old ones, thick and a little chipped. They’re like the ones old time diners used to use; Mamaw loved the pattern on them, interlacing leaves of ivy in light green. I remember all the meals I’ve eaten from them, all the meals she cooked with so much talent, and love. I wish both of them, Mamaw and Papaw, were here, now…

“Delightful. These trout were good-sized ones, Erin. Maybe we’ll go fishing again, tomorrow. Sound fun?”

“Yes… but you love fishing, I love bird watching, or rock-hounding…” I smile at her, recalling the morning’s fun. She joked with me at the river, telling me to go upstream and chase the fish down to her with all my climbing around. She had caught these bare-handed, flicking them out of the water in a smooth blur of motion.

“We work well together, though. I’ll crack those geodes for you this afternoon, and we’ll see what’s inside. Must be some caves nearby… I smelled black bear, earlier, by the river. And quite a few deer. Perhaps a whiff of cougar, or what did you call it…”

“A painter, the folks ‘round hereabouts call ‘em. A mountain painter, or panter. Basically, a mountain lion or cougar. Big cat. Can be dangerous, though…”

“That’s what I like about them, darlin’,” Gwen smiles, drinking some water. “Perhaps some wine, for dessert? Some of that mountain wild grape wine you bought in that little village, ah, Monteagle, would be tasty. A bit on the sweet side, but a nice change.”

I get up and fetch it, bringing it back with two glasses. “To you, for thinking of me, and giving me this, and the note… to you, my Muhmis,” I toast, raising my glass to her. She smiles widely at me, and our glasses chink together musically. The sweet, wild grape wine tastes good; chilled, it slips down my throat and warms my stomach. Gwen leans back onto the grass and sighs contentedly.

“To us, and the future, my girl, the future…”

**  
I lie on my back, watching clouds go by. The sky’s blue is deepening, the sun getting ready to slide behind the hills surrounding us. Gwen’s next to me, munching on some carrots. Her metabolism is so fast, I think, we had to about carry a grocery store up here when we came for a week… I grin, and roll over to face her. She stops munching, her aristocratic face splitting in a lecherous smile. She reaches for me, and I giggle, trying to roll away. Strong arms catch me, and pull me on top of her. I look down, my hair shading us both. “Gwen… is this all you think about?!”

“No. But it’s one of my favorite things to do with you…”

I sigh, dramatically. “But we’ve been doing the frisky all day… I’ll be a wraith by the time today’s over, not to mention by the end of the week. I thought we came up here to talk, too, not just do the wild thang, Muhmis…”

“Hmm. Point well taken. I guess I could restrain myself for a few hours, possibly…” Her hands continue exploring, tugging at my clothes, and I frown in mock severity.

“Muhmis!” I do a very credible imitation of the just-barely suppressed frustration yodel that May and Ariadne’ve been treating us to for weeks now. Gwen looks at me for a moment, and frowns slightly. Uh-oh, did I go too far? I wonder, and then relax as she laughs merrily. She pulls my head down and kisses me, almost bruisingly hard, and then lets me sit up.

I cross my arms and sit on her, letting my weight bear down on her hips. I bounce, once, and then scramble free. Gwen follows my movements, pouncing, and then she’s on top. She bounces considerably more than once, only stopping when we’re both laughing so hard it’s difficult to breath. “All right, my spicy wench. Choose—bumping and grinding, or talking. One or the other…” Her white, even teeth flash in a grin, and I return it.

“Talking, please…” I sit up, with her help, and we regain our composure. It’s funny, I think, she can be the coolest cat in the world one minute, the spirit of command the next, and then a silly kid in the grass with sex on her mind. Multi-talented, that’s my muhmis. Sometimes I think the weight of being Planetary Archon is heavy even on her. But she loves the challenges, and sure as hell met them last week.

“Auric for your thoughts, lover-girl…” Her leaf-green eyes look me over, wondering at my silence.

“Heck, they’re not worth that much, Gwen…” I laugh. “Just thinking about last week, and how you enjoyed the challenge, and won the whole damn pot. You’d be a hell of a poker player. I was kinda worried there, especially before lunch that day…”

“It was interesting… we’d become almost complacent, Erin, with our mastery, and these challenges are important reminders that there’re whole other universes to conquer, subdue to our will. The Draka will. That’s something I want to leave open for our children, and theirs, as well.” She runs a hand through her bangs, and then reaches back, over her shoulder, and undoes her braid. “But there wasn’t any reason to worry, really, during the meeting. Once it began, and I knew who was solidly on my side, there wasn’t any other way it would come out. Not really. And I enjoyed, truly, the surprised look on Alexis’ face…”

“He’s dangerous, Muhmis.”

“So am I, and he forgot about that, or discounted it. Perhaps he thought having my own planet would satisfy me…”

“It doesn’t?”

She looks at me, tilting her head slightly. “No. Not in the least. As I said, there are whole other universes to explore, to take under the Race’s wing. I don’t know that I’ll ever be satisfied, that way, my sweet young human.”

I think for a minute, wrapping my arms around my knees. Finally, I look up into her face. “That’s sort of sad, in a way. You’re as much as prisoner of your needs and desires as any serf, that way. No disrespect, though…”

“None taken. That’s an intriguing point. Eric Von Shrakenberg wondered about that. You’ve read his works, haven’t you?”

I nod. “He was kinda depressing, and I didn’t agree with him all the time, but he was definitely interesting. Better than that other writer, what’s her name? The weird “will to power” woman…”

“Ah, Naldorssen. Yes, she’s a bit on the edge, so to speak, philosophically. Eric was much more realistic. But then I’ve noticed that about people who survive combat. They tend to have strong ideas but they also tend to be more focused on the real world. He was a decorated veteran, a damn brave man.”

“Yeah, from y’all’s version of world war two. Papaw fought in our version, against the Nazis. He had a scar from shrapnel wounds. Mamaw said he’d have nightmares about it, real bad, when he first came home. He’d never really talk to me about it, but every once in a while…” I shiver. “I’ve been close enough to dying in a short, sharp, nasty way myself.”

“I know, and that’s part of what makes your ideas more realistic. You fit that category, too. You’re a survivor, Erin. I value that.”

“Sometimes…” My eyes darken, and the mountains seem to fade away, replaced by the grey mountainous side of the Nimitz, flame-wracked, tipping up and up into the night sky. “Sometimes...”

“What?” Gwen’s voice is gentle, probing.

I hug my knees tighter. “I don’t know… it’s like part of me died back then, that night with the Nimitz, in the water. In the dark, with all those others. I know, that’s goofy…”

“No. Not at all.” Gwen holds my hand with one of hers, gently cupping my fingers. My hand’s swallowed in hers. 

I look down at them, the human hand and the drakensis one, and then up at her eyes. “But do you know what I mean?”

Muhmis’ eyes sparkle for a moment. “Yes. I’ve had my taste of combat, in the kill-sweeps and biobombing… I lost friends, my innocence, maybe… I think I understand. For a long time, nothing else seemed real, or really important. I talked about it with my mother, Yolande, and she actually spoke with me about Myfwany, and losing her in the Indian Incident…”

“Did you ever want to meet your gene mother? Ever wonder what she was like, if you were close?”

“Yes, and yes. According to all her friends I spoke with, and mother, I was very much like her in many ways, and very different in others. Not to mention the species differences. Personality ones, more than anything. She was much more hot-tempered than I am, more impulsive. Somewhat inclined to be a tad sadistic, if anything. Very in love with my mother, but eventually, I think, she would have wanted to marry a male Draka, and have her own life. That would have broken my mother, I think, even more than losing Myfwany the way she did, actually.” Gwen’s quiet for a moment, looking off toward the river.

“And your brood mother. You were close?”

“Very. Possibly closer to her than any other human, Erin, except you… I could relax with her, and talk with her, more than I could with Yolande. Yolande was quite high-ranking, and rather intimidating. Scared the hell out of me, mostly…” She grins.

“Huh.”

“What?” Puzzlement crosses Muhmis’ face.

I remember Alexandra saying almost the exact same words to me one night, when we were walking down by the herbariums. “Um, well, you know how history repeats itself sometimes?”

“Hmm… no, but go on. I think this may be something I need to hear, right?”

“Kinda.” I look at my hands, wondering how to put it. “Well, um, okay. Alexandra said almost exactly the same thing to me, about you. She loves you intensely, but she’s really frightened of you, Gwen. I wish that wasn’t exactly the way she felt about her mother.”

“Hah… she said that, did she? Right she is, then. Part of that’s physiological. We’re designed differently than you are, Erin. But you know that, don’t you?” She reaches out with her free hand and squeezes my bare thigh, and my skin pales under the light tan. She lets go, and there’s a handprint left on my leg. Gwen leans over and kisses it, her lips hot on my leg. I shiver, partly with delight and partly with fright at her strength. “We’re different… but that doesn’t mean Draka are dinosaurs, either. Perhaps I need to talk with Alexandra, and Ariadne.”

“I think you could have them respect you, do what you say, and still love you without fearing you quite so much. She was sort of shivery when she said it. I know Ariadne feels the same, too,” I say, running a fingertip down her nose.

“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

The question hangs in the air. How do I answer this, I wonder. I mean, you own me, Gwen… you could kill me at a whim… “Um, I… can I be really honest here, Gwen? Or do you really want to know?”

“ ‘Do I really want to know?’ Of course, else I wouldn’t have asked… ah, I see what you mean. Yes, I want to hear what you think. Be honest with me, girl. That’s something I’ve told you from the first; it’s impossible to lie to me. I know you tensed immediately when I asked you what I did. You’re frightened right now.”

“Yes.” I stare into her eyes. “I am. I always am. I guess that’s how I’ve survived. There are times, Gwen, like earlier when you gave me this,” I touch the necklace, “when I’m not afraid of you, but I’m always conscious, always aware, that you’re like a big bipedal tiger, and I’m lower on the food chain.”

“Delicious, too.”

I don’t laugh. Gwen’s smile fades. “That didn’t feel funny, Gwen. I’m serious.”

“I was, too, but about taking you for pleasure, not for a meal.”

My answering laugh’s mirthless. “Ever had a human burger?”

Gwen sits up. Her eyes look coolly into mine. “Do you really want to know?”

Shivers crawl down my spine, and the hairs stand up on my arms. My mind remembers tiger, and fear, and darkness… but what the hell, we’re being honest with each other, and I’m sincerely trying to understand this woman, this alien… “Yeah. Tell me.”

Crossing her legs, Muhmis looks me over. I know she’s listening to my breathing, my heart. She can sense my emotions, and I wonder if she really will tell me what I strongly suspect…

“Yes. I’ve eaten human. Tastes like pork. It’s not something I’m terribly proud of, but I’m not ashamed, either. It happened back during my younger days, during the kill-sweeps.”

Jesus. Jesus H. Christ. Cannibalism… well, not exactly. I swallow dryly, searching for words. Hell, humans have eaten humans, since before written history. Why so woozy? You wanted to know, whispers the tiny voice in the back of my mind. Now you know. “You did? Really? Or are you just messing with me?” My voice is a whisper.

“I did. Tore a human female apart; ate her heart, in front of her. In front of her troops, human irregulars from the hills. Not far from here, actually; more over in what used to be North Carolina. She watched me as she died.” Gwen’s voice is cool, factual. “I roasted part of her, later. They’d destroyed our supply vehicle, so it was all we had.”

I lurch to my feet, gagging. I walk away, hearing her sigh deeply, and don’t stop walking until I get to the river. I barf, savagely, until I’m empty and shaking. A few swigs of water, and a sassafras twig or two, and I feel better, physically. Not mentally. I just didn’t expect it, I guess. I know she’s ruthless, but that’s so… cold. Predatory. Inhuman? No. Be honest. The Donner Party, headhunters… hell. I don’t know what to think. A memory of Gwen on top of me, teeth white in the night, eyes glittering, and how she nipped my shoulder, making it bleed. She had licked it, with her long, slightly pointed tongue rasping on my skin, and I had squealed in mixed pleasure and pain… I gag, again, and chew the sassafras more rapidly. Jeezie petes… urg. Now, what does one say to one’s muhmis, when she’s told the eager questioner about some human… snacks… she’s enjoyed, hundreds of years ago in another universe…

I start to giggle, and end up sitting on the forest path, hysterically laughing my head off. Footsteps pad down toward me, and two strong arms pick me up. Gwen cradles me against her. “Sssaaa, little one, shhh, now… my sweet, I didn’t mean to upset you so, I thought you’d handle it… Erin, Erin… ssssaaa…”

My head rests against her neck, and suddenly, on some weird impulse, I nip her. Hard. Blood spurts hot into my mouth, and I hear her curse. She bats my head away, and looks down at me, hair bristling and a low snarl ratcheting in her throat. Blood, Draka blood, on my lips, I grin up at her. “The circle goes around and around, doesn’t it?”

“Race Spirit. Have you lost your…” Her voice trails off, and she looks more thoughtful. “Hah. Ha ha ha haha…” Leaf-green eyes stare down at me in a predator’s direct glare. Her laughing shakes both of us, and I wrap my arms around her neck, my legs around her waist. The nip on her neck has sealed itself off, and the only mark there now on the smooth tanned skin, taut against muscle and tendon, is a tiny pinkish blip. As I watch, it fades to match her tan.

Gwen jostles me a little, and I look up into her face. “Don’t bite me again. Honesty is fine, biting your owner isn’t. Understand? Or do you need a spanking to remember?”

“No. No spanking. Jeeze, Gwen, I’m sorry. I think… I went a little wacky there for a minute. I really don’t know why I nipped you,” I answer, and lick my lips nervously. The taste on them is coppery, strong. It almost makes me barfish again. It’s certainly different from other tastes I’ve had from her, I think, and blush. “No spanking, please. The last one you gave me was bad enough.”

“You rarely get them; haven’t had one for over three years now, as I recall.” Gwen’s voice is dry, and she smiles at me. “But never say never. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes! Yes, Gwen, Muhmis…”

“Ah, you humans… you don’t ‘understand’ why you bit me? How can you do something without understanding why? I just don’t…” She rolls her eyes, expressively. I chuckle, and lean my head, slowly, against her neck.

“That’s us, Gwen, humans… you just have to live with us, I guess…”

“Not if I’m Felice Vashon, I don’t.” I shiver, remembering the leonine Draka, and how she had looked at me like… like a side of meat. I swallow, huskily, and put my head down on my Muhmis’ broad shoulder. 

Gwen walks us back to the cabin. Trees go by, and the path behind is barred with alternating patterns of shade and light. A few leaves flutter to the ground, and I see a kingfisher dart from a low branch down into the river and back up again, something silvery in its beak. I realize I still have some sassafras twigs in my grasp, and gnaw one. I offer one to Gwen, and she nods her head. I gently place it between her opened lips, and then gasp as strong jaws, and sharp teeth, close down on my fingers, holding them immobile.

“Gwen?”

“Mmmhh?”

“Please. I like those fingers, and you’ve expressed a certain appreciation for them, too. Think how sad Ally would be, if you returned me, fingerless…” I try to smile, but it comes out a bit lopsided.

“Mmmmh.” She looks at me, eyes narrowing slightly. Her grip increases a tad, and I whimper. Then humor flashes across her mobile features, and she lets my hand loose. I snatch it back as she snaps down on the leaf stalk. “Tasty…”

“God, Muhmis…”

Her laughter floats ahead of us as we come out of the woods. She and I reach the cabin, and she sits down on the flagstone steps, me in her lap. “Erin, my Erin… what am I to do with you?”

“What you will.” I look up at her, serious again. “You know that.”

“Indeed. What I will,” she says, looking down at me. She hugs me close, and I relax against her, feeling the smooth, increasing presence of her pheromones working on me. I’ve been around her long enough to know when she’s letting them work strongly on me, and I wonder why she’s working so hard to relax me. 

A sudden twinge in my chest tells me. The pain, a sharp, squeezing feeling, forces a grunt out of me, and my left arm aches. Ow, I think. This isn’t any fun… is this her pheromones working on me? The rabbit-in-my-chest feeling that was there while I was getting sick is gone, but I feel… very tired now. “Gwen?”

“Ssshhhh… you’ll be all right. I want to calm you down, though. Your heart’s irregular right now, and much too fast. Breathe deeply for me, sweetlin’, and you’ll feel better, I promise. Come on, now, for Muhmis… breathe, Erin. That’s right. Good, deep breathing. Mmhhh, yes, that’s right…”

Her voice, and her pheromones, calm me down quickly, and I sit up, rubbing my arm. “Was that almost a heart attack, Muhmis? I’ve never had heart problems before…”

“No, but you have had occasional irregularities in your heartbeat. I’ve noticed them before. We’ll have Shawonda investigate when we return to the House, don’t worry. I don’t think it’s anything serious, right now. Feel better, now?”

“Yes. Hey, listen, I’m sorry, really… I mean, I asked, right? It just… it just conflicted with my idea of you, I guess. The you I have inside my head.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, please, don’t be mad, Muhmis, or disappointed,” I say, softly, my voice shaking. Tears rise to my eyes, and I wipe savagely at them.

Gwen catches my hands and holds them in one of hers. “I’m neither of those things, ma douce. Just, well, trying to think of a way for us to get back on neutral ground again.”

“Let’s try again. Please?”

“Don’t you want to try again tomorrow, maybe? You need a rest, I think.”

“No, please…” I shake my head. “This is important, Gwen, for the two of us. I feel that, and it’s now or never, I think… please?”

Muhmis sighs and nods. “What else would you like to know about me?”

“What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”

“Chocolate.”

We smile at each other, and it feels better between us. “Muhmis, I’m sorry. I know, I’ve said that already, but I mean it. Humans have been eating other humans for a hell of a long time, so why should it weird me out so much that you did something several hundred years ago in another universe?”

“Because you’re human, and you’re a survivor, and knowing what I’m capable of worries you. Because you’re afraid of me.”

“Maybe it’s better to say I’m afraid of drakensis in general. I’m scared of you sometimes, but then there are other times, like right now, and earlier… I’m not. I like you then, so much…” My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. “Your note said, ‘with love, Gwendolyn’. You know I only call you that on certain occasions. And I know, too, you didn’t use that other word lightly.”

“No, I didn’t. I meant it.”

“But how did you mean it?”

“How?”

I stroke her face slowly. “Gwendolyn, my dear, dear, woman… okay, let me try to explain. It’s confusing enough, as it is. This is what Patrick and Alexa got all riled up about, and I sure as hell don’t want us having a hissy fit like they did.”

Gwen laughs, softly. “Our hormones are better-behaved. Go on, darlin’…”

“When I say I love someone, it’s something special. Love isn’t a word I toss around, nor is the word ‘friend’. A friend implies a certain level of trust, of mutual likingness. I like you, a lot. And I trust you, even though I thought I might lose a finger or two back in the woods.”

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t hurt you like that, my saafn… or do you?”

“Logically, I may have processed all your talks about being yours, and safe, and having your protection, and guidance… but emotionally, I reacted with fear. So some part of me isn’t sure, Muhmis, no matter what words we use.” I shut my eyes, trying to think of how to say what I need to. “Muhmis… this is hard to say. But here goes: I like you as a friend, for the most part. I think you like me. We manage to communicate pretty well, for two different species, from different times. Different universes. Okay?”

“Yes, Erin, I understand. I agree.”

“Love, to me, means total, unconditional acceptance. No matter what I did, you’d still love me, even if you were mad at me, or frustrated, or whatever. You might not like me, but you’d still love me. That’s the way I feel about Alice, and Patrick, and May. That’s also the way I feel about Alexandra and Ariadne, too. Even though they’re Draka. I love Jennifer, and Tom. I even love Yannan and Rosta. And Shawonda. I loved Peter, with all my heart. I wish…”

“What?”

“Hell, I wish I had been a guy, or he had been a girl. Then it would have been perfect between us. But that wasn’t the way it turned out, and he’s gone now. I miss him. But I love him. Gwen, I want to love you, but there’s something in the way…”

“There is? My former eating habits, perhaps?”

“No,” I laugh. “Although that did make me lose my lovely trout lunch. Aw, hell, Gwen, it’s just that… how can you accept me and how can I accept you, when part of our relationship is based on you owning me? Owning me. That’s just so… against everything I was brought up to believe in, and I know you wish I could just slough off that old stuff, and be happy. But I can’t, no matter how much I enjoy being your saafn, being with you in bed, working for you. I’ve had a child for you… but even there, although you asked me, there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done to stop you if I had said no and you had said yes.”

“I accept you for who you are. I enjoy you a great deal, more than any other human I’ve ever met. I’d never hurt you willingly, and I will never let any other Draka hurt you. But you do belong to me, and that feels right, very right, to me.”

“I know. I accept you, on some levels, but that’s sort of the sticking point. Gwendolyn, I want to love you, I want… it would make things so much easier, so much better… oh, god, you’ve touched places in me no one else has ever seen, not even Alice, or Peter…” I sob, quietly, against her shoulder, cursing the lump in my throat that’s made the tears course down my face. “I want… I want to be yours, Muhmis, in so many ways…”

“Oh, Erin…” Gwen’s voice trembles slightly, and my eyes widen in surprise. “I want that, too, so much...”

**  
I hold Erin, sigh, take a few deep breaths, let her recover… and myself. It isn’t often that someone of my species and my years gets this close to being overcome with emotion.

“Erin, sweetlin’…” I say. “This is difficult… I’ve felt very strongly – unusually strongly – for you for a long time, and it’s been getting more… pronounced. Several things I’ve done, political things, conflicts with Alexis… they’ve been primarily because of you.”

Her eyes grow wide. I go on: “Having you mine made me rethink my position about keeping the human race here, Erin. Patrick would have been among the last humans born here, if it weren’t for you. And I’ve pushed through a change – here on Earth/2, at least – in the rejuvenation policy, a policy that’s as old as the Final Society… largely because… I just wanted you around indefinitely.”

“Oh,” she says softly. “Oh, I didn’t realize… oh, Gwen.”

“Well, I came up with other good reasons for those decisions – managed to convince myself,” I say. “But those were the emotional reasons. I’m not used to being so vulnerable,” I go on, sitting up and putting my arms around my knees. “It’s… uncomfortable for a drakensis. Extremely.”

“Vulnerable?” she says. “To what?”

“You,” I say. “I don’t just enjoy your affection, it would hurt me emotionally to lose it. Your happiness is important to me.” I sigh again. “I just couldn’t face the thought of letting you die, even centuries from now, if it was in my power to prevent.”

She leans closer, putting her head against my shoulder. “That’s… a big concession, Gwen.”

I nod. “Oh, Erin, you don’t know the half of it. From a Draka point of view, it’s virtually a perversion. I worry about it; if we could get mentally ill, I’d worry about that being the reason – fortunately, we can’t. If it got out, though, it could seriously damage my position.” After a pause: “You know, Erin, this relationship is complicated.”

She bursts out laughing, and I join her. “We’re certainly getting into this honesty thing,” she says after a while.

“Mmmm-hmmm. Now let’s put it to work on the other side,” I say, growing serious again. “This conference… I do accept you, Erin; in fact, I’ve changed in rather difficult ways because of it. The question is, do you accept me? I can’t change everything about myself; I can’t be a human. My need to… own you… is part of me and my feelings towards you – not the whole thing, but a very important, integral part of it—is coded into my very being – and those feelings are so strong they frighten me a little.” I frown, then go on:

“From inside –” I touch my chest “—it feels warm… loving, I think I could say. When you respond to it in the way I need, I feel so… satisfied. Completed. So close to you. And when you’re frightened and pull back from that… commitment, it’s frustrating.” 

**  
I lean on the fence and watch Chiron galloping. May’s on his back, and Patrick’s running hell-for-leather towards him, kicking at a football. He dives for it, right under Chiron’s hooves, and rolls away behind him waving it triumphantly in the air. The centaur whirls, his front legs coming off the ground, with May squealing and holding on by the straps of the leather harness across his shoulders; Alexa is jumping up and down behind him:

“Throw!” she shouts. “Throw!”

Pat does, a long low arc – he does that really well for a human, I think – but Chiron jumps like deer, and May grabs it out of the air. Alexa howls and closes in, but Chiron’s running for the end of the field with clods of turf flying from his hooves, and Pat trying to get close enough to tag him –

“Oi, that looks far too energetic for this early in the morning,” Jennifer says, wiping her forehead with the palm of a hand. It’s hot, and even standing leaning on the fence I’m running with sweat myself. Hot, clear but sort of hazy, muggy, the bugs are loud in the tall grass along the fence and in the buckeyes and oaks. A bunch of saafn are pitching hay across the lane behind us, and I can smell their effort. A hawk’s circling above us; I focus my eyes and watch the way his feathers spread at the ends of his wings, like fingers. But they’re always turning, adjusting in tiny little movements as he flies…

Tannie Jenny’s still limping a little; she pulled a muscle, serving Mom and that oooger-chill Felice Vashon. It’s a bit gronky to think of having her as a relative. Nice to have another sister, though – and I’ll be the big sister for this one! Jenny wandered around a little stunned for the first couple of days, until after Mom and Tantie-Ma Erin left for their holiday, but she’s feeling a lot better now.

I lean over and take Tannie Jenny’s scent, a deep breath with my mouth a little open. Yup, I think. She’s brooding all right.

“Hey!” Jenny laughs and hugs me with an arm around the shoulders. “I’m not showering enough for you, missy?”

“No, I –” then I laugh and slap her shoulder. “You’re teasing me again.”

“Have I ever stopped?” Her grin fades a bit. “Do I smell different already?”

“A bit, Tannie Jenny,” I say. “Just an… I don’t know how to say it. Sort of like… fresh bread and flowers. Really good. I mean, you always smell good.” Sort of sexy, too, sometimes, but I ignore that – she’s Tannie Jenny, after all, I mean, you have to have standards and not just be a serf to your hormones. “But now you smell even better now. I could just close my eyes and, umm, yeah, bask in it.”

“I’m starting to feel very good, too,” she smiles, touching her stomach. “Erin and Alice and Josie from Rohm Manor all gave me the low-down about it back when Muhmis told me I was a candidate, but that’s not the same thing as feeling it.” 

She looks down at me, and I hug her back. I’m glad that she’s feeling nice; I’ve always liked Tannie Jenny, far back as I can remember. Even if she did help teach me my maths!

“I wish I could know what it’s like to smell the world the way you do,” she says, a bit wistful. “Like having another sense.”

“Well –” Link up, I say. She closes her eyes and does it. Let’s see if I can…

I concentrate on what I’m scenting now – grass, warm painted wood from the fence, the wet-fresh scent of the creek a thousand yards away, and the mealy, silty smell of the reed banks along it. Horses, deer, mice, rabbits, birds, snakes. Alexa’s scent, sharp and clear-cut, like a glow of crimson against the background. May’s, sweet and human-musky; Pat’s, equally familiar; her own, sweat and body-odors and the lovely way she’s starting to scent…

“Whoah! Too much already!” she laughs, swaying a little, and I break the link. “It’s like that all the time for you?”

“Well, yeah, mostly,” I say. “I can shut it down, but it’s like… like being blind. Sometimes you have to, like if you had to look at the sun you’d squint,” I go on. Then: “Tannie Jenny? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, little missy,” she says, looking over at me a bit curiously. I pull a grass stem and chew it, something I learned from Tantie-Ma. The wood of the fence is smooth and silky under my forearms.

“Ummm… I’ve been thinking, lately. You know, about humans and Draka and stuff.” 

I squint at the meadow; Alexa jumps right over Chiron’s back, snatching the ball out of May’s hands along the way, but she lands on Pat and they both go down in a heap. Chiron kicks the ball right out of their scrambling hands and up into the air, and then May catches it again.

“What about it?” she asks me. That’s another reason I like her. Even when I was a little kid, she always took my questions seriously.

“I know a lot of humans don’t like having us here, being ours, serving us,” I say. “Even some of the saafn here on the plantation, and a lot in other places. But… I mean, Pat gets mad at being Alexa’s sometimes. Tantie Ma Erin, even, I think, sometimes she doesn’t like being Mom’s. But Alice and Tom, they never do… what about you?”

She sighs. “That’s a difficult question, Ari,” she says. “It’s been good and bad. I was very frightened of Muhmis… your mother, at first, when I found out what she was.”

“Yeah, Mom can be plenty scary,” I agree. She laughs a little.

“Oh, little missy, you have no idea. But then I decided, since this has to be my life – if I’m going to be alive at all – I might as well make the best of it. There’s a lot of good things about being your Mom’s saafn, so yes, I’m pretty happy here, most of the time. And I have my work, and very good friends here, I have you and Alexa, and pretty soon I’m going to be having your sister.”

“That’s sort of mixed up,” I say.

“So’s life,” she chuckles when I snort. “I’m from a long line of hairsplitters and arguers.”

The others are getting up, dabbing at the mud, coming over towards the fence. May slides down off Chiron’s back and I lift her over the fence. She smells so good, even smelling of sweat and the centaur; I growl a little as I set her down. It still feels a little odd to do that, and she grins and gets flushed and giggles, and I do, too. Pat looks away for a second; he’s a bit odd about May and me sometimes.

May likes being mine, I think. Of course, it’s different with her and me. We’ve been together forever; we’re buds. We don’t do much of this kneeling and your-will stuff when we’re together. I like that with Hans and Berte, it’s sort of grown-up and exciting, but the only time May tried it we both broke up completely. 

“Let’s go for a swim down at the creek,” I say.

“You go ahead,” Tannie Jenny says. “I’m going back up to the House and use the pool, like a civilized, grown-up person.”

We groan at her and troop off down towards the willows.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter 8

The washer buzzes, and I look up from my book. Time to fold, I think, and amble lazily over to the laundry room. I remember, as I take the clothes out, how Mamaw taught me how to fold things. I never had to, at home. Erika, the German housekeeper Mom and Dad kept as another “trophy” of their financial success, folded everything. She was a tall, forbidding woman who kept a permanent frown pasted on her face. Brrr… she was scary. I lived for the times I spent with my grandparents, here in the mountains of Tennessee.

Place the shirt against you, like you’re hugging it; smooth it down, then fold the right sleeve over, then the arm creases down; next, the left sleeve. Tug the shirt up under your chin, folding from the bottom, once, twice, and then pop it on the stack by the machine. Next one. I think of Mamaw; her hands would get so red and raw looking from doing the laundry by hand, those first years I spent with them up here. The lye soap was so caustic. Smelly, too. But then she’d hang everything up in the cool mountain breeze, and when you went to bed at night, the sheets smelled so wonderful, so fresh. I remember her hands, and how I worried. 

I’m lost in my head for a moment, seeing her face, her smile. Hearing her voice, inhaling her delicate flowery perfume again, the one she made herself from flowers up on the hillsides. I miss that so much, I think. I miss that, and Papaw’s puffing old pipe.

“Almost done, my ‘laundry petty officer’?” Gwen sticks her head into the laundry room, smiling.

“Gah!” I jump a little, and the pile of neatly folded clothes tumps over, into the floor. Muhmis chuckles, and then surprises me by kneeling down next to me and picking up an armful of clothes. She places them on the dryer, straightening them. “Thanks, Muhmis… didn’t mean to be such a startled bunny, there…”

“I should have made more noise coming in. I forget you don’t hear as well as I do. Mmmh, these smell good. But I still don’t know why we couldn’t have brought nothing but memory-molecule clothes up here. You wouldn’t have to do this, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t mind,” I smile. I place the last of the migrating clothes on the top of the stack, and pat them down. “It brings back good memories.”

“Want to share them?” She leans against the door frame, her long, lithe legs out in front of her.

“Sure…” I tell her of Mamaw and Papaw, and the lye soap, and how one summer Papaw and I hunted and dug ginseng, enough to buy Mamaw a washer from Sears. How she cried with joy the day the big ole truck managed to groan its way up the dirt road, with its cargo. They had electricity well before any of the far-scattered neighbors did, and Papaw even put in a gas-powered generator, too. No television, though; just a radio, and their ancient record player. But that never bothered me; it was such a relief to be away from my abusive parents, they could have lived in a tent in the desert and I would have thought it a castle fit for a queen.

“Yeah, we couldn’t afford a dryer, too, that year. But she sure did love that washer. We got these newer ones about four years before they both passed on.” I look down at the white enamel, and brush some lint off them. “They were good folks.”

“Yes, it sounds like they were. I would have liked to meet them, Erin. I see they’ve left a lot of themselves in you, though,” Gwen says softly. She reaches out and brushes a strand of hair back from my face. 

“Hell, as long as my parents didn’t leave much of themselves in me, you know?” I smile, but there’s an edge to it. “I swore, when I left, that I’d never, ever be like them. Not that I really thought at the time that I’d have kids. But once Peter and I talked about it, and his parents were so cool. Like my friend Luann’s. I realized that maybe I could be a good parent, if I was careful.”

“You are an excellent parent, my sweet. Despite all the adolescent grumbles and whines assaulting your ears at home right now,” Muhmis grins.

“Thanks… I try, really hard. So does Alice. I have to watch it, though, ‘cause sometimes I ride herd a little hard. They call me Chief Warden, sometimes. I overheard Ariadne telling Alexandra something about that a few weeks ago…” I grin back. “But then again, I’m the one they come to with their little stories, too… hoping to get me to intervene, with someone else…” I prod Gwen with a finger.

“That you do, you scamp. More than you should. They’re getting spoiled, a bit. ‘Chief Warden’ indeed,” she replies, catching my finger in a lightning-fast movement. She urges me to her side, and I curl in against her, snuggling.

“I love them, Gwen.”

“I know. That’s obvious, sometimes, the way you look at them when you think no one can see.”

“It’s getting dark outside already?” I look over her shoulder, standing up on my tip-toes.

“Storm’s coming. Been building for a few hours, while I was out hunting. I caught some nice plump quail, and they’re all ready for cooking. In the sink. And I’m hungry…” Gwen nuzzles against me, purring deeply.

“Is that a request for Madame La Chef Supreme to go to work?”

She laughs, deeply. “Either that, or for my pretty pony to give her Muhmis a nice ride before dinner…” Her hands cup my ass, lifting me off the floor.

“Hey! Hey! Oh…” Our mouths meet, and I’m at a loss for words. Finally, we break, and I giggle softly as she moves me against her. “I think you made the decision, Muhmis… take me to bed, or lose me forever, you big ole woman, you…”

“Never… I’ll never lose you, my precious. Let me show you what a ‘big ole woman’ I am, though…” Gwen carries me into the bedroom, and tosses me on the bed. She strips her t-shirt and jeans off, then drops her panties on the pile of discarded clothes. I start to undress myself, hands shaking, eyes on her. Muhmis climbs on top of me, purr rumbling even deeper. Her eyes hold mine, and she efficiently strips me naked. My gift from her, the necklace, gleams golden against my skin, and she traces it with her fingers, slowly, so slowly… Then her hands, her mouth… her body sends me into orbit, faster than I’ve ever been before.

“Ah, god, ah… oh, mmmhhh… Gwendolyn!”

**  
The quail are merrily (for us, anyway) broiling away in the big stove Mamaw spent so much time in front of. They smell wonderful. I open the door and baste them one more time, with a big wooden spoon. “Gwen?”

“Yes, sweet?” She walks into the kitchen, tying her hair back. Her body is still glistening with water from our shower. I grin at her, looking her up and down slowly. “You wanted something?” Muhmis’ hands begin to stroke me again, and I gasp.

“Uh…oh… mmhh…Um, yes, actually... Would you be so kind as to mash these potatoes for me?” I nod toward the earthenware bowl, piled high with a small mountain of spuds, peeled and waiting in water. Gwen laughs, kisses me, and then picks up the bowl in one hand. The masher in the other moves in a blur, and within seconds we have fluffy mashed potatoes. 

“The birdies are about… oh, you’re done, already? Here, put some butter on them, and a tad of salt. Yeah, it’s over on the table, by the windows.” Gwen bobs her head, jokingly, and garnishes the taters. I turn down the heat on the green beans, and take the glass lid off their pot. “Mmmhh--good. Fresh green beans. Yum.”

“Let me get the quail for you, darlin’…” Gwen mits a hand and reaches into the oven, pulling out the broiler pan with the four birds on it. “Ah, you did these just right, Erin. They look lovely…” She plants a kiss on the top of my head, and I blush with pride, and pleasure, at making her happy. Moments later, we dig into the meal, salad, home-made bread, wine, the quail, the green beans, and Gwen’s Instant Draka Mashed Potatoes.

“I’ll have to tell Mavis to employ you gainfully in the kitchen, Muhmis… you’re a whiz at mashing things,” I joke, sipping my sweet wine.

“I’ll have you in there scrubbing pots and pans on your knees, my wench, if you mention anything like that to anyone…” Gwen growls, mock ferociously. Her hand reaches for mine, and we sit there, at the table, hand in hand. The rain patters down on the porch roof, obscuring the forest and mountains beyond. A roll of thunder greets us, and then another, as lightning flickers. The lights go dim, then bright; finally they go out altogether. I squeak, a little, in the darkness. I hear Gwen’s answering chuckle, and then her chair scrapes back on the wooden floor. A moment later, a match rasps into life, and candles glow. 

Gwen comes to stand behind me. “Let’s leave the dishes for a moment, my younglin’, and go sit by the fireplace.”

“Okay,” I say, stroking the hand that lies on my right shoulder. “Can we talk for a while?”

“Yes, actually. That’s what I was thinking about… among other things,” Gwen’s face is under-lit by the candle she’s holding in her left hand, and my heart thuds, my breath catches, at her incredible beauty. Beautiful and dangerous; dominant and vulnerable. Her green eyes shine slightly in the lowered light, and she smiles softly at me. Taking my hand, she leads me to the large fireplace, where we’ve spread sheepskins and blankets, well out of range of the fire, but close enough for comfort. I sit down next to her, and lean against her warmth while the storm begins to roar outside.

“This feels good, Gwen… really good.”

“Yes, it does.” She hugs me close, and we sit for a few moments that way, merely enjoying the presence of each other. Her body heat warms me and I relax against her strength, her solidity. Her purr, more muted now than it was earlier, thrums softly in my ear as my head rests against her chest.

**  
“I never told you what I was going to do if the conference went against me,” I say at last.

“Nope, you didn’t, muhmis,” Erin replies, cuddled against my chest.

The storm’s growing louder outside, and the temperature has fallen several degrees. Thunder makes the windowpanes rattle against their fittings. For a few moments there’s an intense earthy smell of wet dust, and then the faint freshness of vegetation washed by the thunderstorm, tanged with ozone.

“I was considering cutting Earth/2 off.”

“Cutting it off?”

“Cutting it off from the Prime Line. Blowing the wormhole. I’ve looked into it, and not only could the end here be decoupled, with a little effort – the physics are pretty esoteric – we could ‘blur’ the event-wave signature of this time-line so that it would be… not impossible, but vanishingly unlikely, that they could link through again. Sort of analogous to jamming radar. Actually, it was one of your human scientists who did the research for me. Came up with some really ingenious methods, too. It’s burn-before-reading-and-commit-suicide-if-you-think-of-it secret, of course.”

Erin looks up at me, wide-eyed; I can feel her pulse speed up. “Why… why would you do that? Muhmis?”

I grin, looking up into the night. “Why, to get my own way, of course!” I chuckle, and my hands move over her. I go on:

“I’m good at that… seriously, that’s about it. I’ve become attached to this world – it’s home to me, now; I don’t want it messed with by people with no real grasp of the situation here. And it wouldn’t harm the Race to lose contact with the Prime Line. It might drive Alexis wild with frustration, but that’s not the same thing. We’re well-established here, there are nearly a hundred thousand of us on Earth/2 now, more than ample for a breeding population, and we’re firmly in control. Rule by the Race doesn’t necessarily mean answering to Archona on administrative matters. Back on the Prime Line they could go right on conquering new worlds in space, and paratemporally. And I could do the same right here. It might get a little sticky politically here, but my support among the Draka here is quite firm. Most of them are juniors, and they’ve gotten a big status-jump by moving here; I doubt they’d grudge me one too.”

“Oh,” Erin says, thoughtful. She feels light and fragile in my arms, so vulnerable in a universe so blindly dangerous. “That’s… astounding.”

“I’ll tell you what’s astounding; it’s astounding that a human could assimilate 400 years of a different scientific tradition and come up with something that potentially useful in only fifteen years,” I say.

**

“Who was the scientist?” I ask Gwen, nestling against her in the candle- and fire lit room. Flickers of lightning occasionally wash through the windows, followed by rattling booms of thunder. The storm’s at a peak, I think, of fury, but we’re safe here inside. I’m safe, here with Muhmis…

“A British man, name of Hawkins. Stephen. We gave him top-of-the-line medical care, to reverse some odd human disease he was dying of… while recuperating, he came up with the theory, and then the actual process by which we can ‘blow’ the mole hole, and then distort the para-temporal event waves. Fascinating, really.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s famous for some of his earlier work. He had Lou Gehrig’s disease, didn’t he?” I cock my head to one side, trying to remember.

“Um… the human doctors called it ALS, some type of nerve degeneration. He’s fine, now. Plays a good game of tennis, for a human.” She grins at me. “And it was lovely, actually, to be able to reverse such a disease. I did enjoy being able to authorize that experiment.”

“Experiment?”

Gwen looks into the fire, and it’s reflected back in her beautiful, widely-spaced, leaf-green eyes. “Well, yes. It was experimental at the time, just after the Arrival. He volunteered after we approached him, knowing that there were… risks… involved. Modifying Draka molecular level medical care to human standards can be tricky at times. But it worked well.”

My hands trace hers, small on large. “That’s good. I sure bet he was relieved!”

“Oho, yes. All the doctors were, I think. Now it’s ‘no big deal’ as you Yanks say, but back then, fifteen years ago, it was.” She rests her head on mine, being careful, I can tell, not to bear down too hard. “I enjoyed being able to erase those burn scars, Erin, even though they were tiny, and that bloody great scar down your back.”

“Mmh, yeah. It itched like the devil for a few days, but then it was, like, gone. Poof! I keep catching myself looking for it. I guess I just got used to what Peter called my ‘zipper’, Gwen. I didn’t mind getting rid of the scars, though.”

“Some won’t ever go away, will they?” She gazes down into my eyes, green into hazel, her voice soft. I shake my head no, and sigh, closing my eyes. Memories…

“Hey,” I say, my eyes popping open. “We forgot dessert—hang on a second, let me go get it!” I grin up at her, and she smiles back, releasing me from her lap. I get up and walk into the kitchen, humming.

While I’m in there, I reach up to a top cabinet, and take down a small, cloth-wrapped packet. It’s light in my hand, but its meaning is heavy in my heart. Should I? I mean, I like her… I guess I love her… but she’s a Draka, she’s my owner… I keep humming a Martina McBride song to cover, and put the package down on the hardwood counter. I pop open the freezer, and take out the key lime pie I had made from scratch earlier in the day, while Gwen was hunting. 

I stand for a frozen moment, looking at the small packet, the pie cold in my hands. A lot hinges on this, I think, a hell of a lot, to both of us. What should I do? It could change everything, or nothing…

“Need some help in there? I'm hungry…” calls Gwen, and I jump a little.

“Nope, nope…just getting it out of the freezer, and the plates and stuff. I’ll be right there, Muhmis, just hold your horses…” I sing back, shifting from foot to foot.

Balancing the two plates, forks, a knife, and the pie in one hand, I stuff the packet into my jeans, and then take the dessert into the living room with a smile on my face.

**  
The sweet aroma of the pie precedes me, and Gwen’s already sitting on the couch, smiling in anticipation. I know this is one of her favorite desserts; one of the reasons I made it. It was fun to make, too, remembering old times. Having some quiet time to myself in the kitchen was an added bonus, I think, and then the time alone in the house, while she was out.

“Ah, how nice… made from scratch, yet…” Gwen's hands take the pie, and the plates, and I watch her cut us pieces. Mine's a normal-sized one; hers is gargantuan. I’m glad I made a large pie. Her Draka metabolism is so much faster than a human’s; she eats at least six or seven thousand calories a day to keep her engine stoked. I grin at her, waiting for her to try the pie.

An expression of sublime joy spreads across her face as she tastes it. A moment’s silence, and then she leans over and kisses me, expertly balancing her plate. She tastes of key limes, a little bit of wine, and the tang of herself, Gwen. I'm used to that by now; I return the kiss with interest. We laugh, softly, brushing graham cracker crust crumbs from our chins. “This is quite excellent, my darlin’… better than Mavis’, but don’t you dare tell her so…”

“Aha! Another thing to hold over your…” I look into her eyes, and note the tiny, fractional narrowing. “Well, maybe not. I guess I won’t blackmail you with your devious kitchen secrets, the potato mashing and your thoughts on pie.” I nudge her knee with mine, and her grin brightens. I have to remember how sensitive she is, any Draka is, to a threat, even in a joke, I muse silently to myself. Have to keep that in mind, always.

Muhmis leans back against the quilt-covered couch, and devours her slice of pie in a few mouthfuls. She holds out her plate for more, and I serve it to her, chuckling. “Glad I made this pie a big one, or all I’d get is crumbs…”

“You could have made two…” she laughs, accepting the plate back and returning to the attack.

“But then you’d have just eaten both of them, and I’d still end up with crumbs!” I concentrate on my piece, finishing it with gusto, then laying the plate down on the coffee table. Gwen’s been nice enough to pull it back in front of the couch; we had moved it over to one side earlier, when we'd sat together by the fireplace. The pine table’s got some dings and dents in it, but it’s still pretty, I think. Papaw made it, back when he and Mamaw were first married…

That reminds me of the packet in my jeans. I turn slightly away, and tug it out. Gwen, watching me, raises one eyebrow coolly, the odd, closed-in curve of her smile lit by a flash of lightning outside. The firelight and the flickering candles bring out the softer side of her features, I think, as I hold the package behind my back; the lightning shows her as the huntress she is, all planes and angles. I’m glad the storm is slowly dying down.

“What’s that you have, my pretty-girl?”

I look over at her, and smile softly, still holding it behind my back. 

My mind flashes back, in an instant, to the last talk Papaw and I had, the day I left for the Navy. He was sitting on the porch, in one of the hickory rockers, whittling. Wasn’t much of a talker, but what he said made damn good sense. Mamaw had been frettin’ some, about me going so far away, a girl alone in the big wide world, and he had just nodded, and carved some more. I finally sent Mamaw inside for a glass of water, and some tissues for her, and sat down on the railing across from my grandfather.

“Papaw, what do you think about all this?”

“Wayull…” the knife continued to flick along the block of wood smoothly, strongly, “I reckon you’ve already made your decision, when you signed up down there in the city…”

“Yeah, but what do you think?”

He smiled at me, the wrinkles creasing by his eyes and his mouth. Worn there by years of working in the sun, out in the fields, or building houses. Hazel eyes, like mine, peered through battered bifocals, and he stopped rocking. Papaw leaned forward, and so did I, expectant, listening.

“Now you see, my girl, some things there are that you cain’t jest say when they was decided; it’s kinda like they decide for themselves, and let you know sometime along the way. That’s the way it’s been with you, honey. You’re bound for somethin’ great; you'll do great things. Seen that, I have,” he says, staring into my eyes.

“Huh?”

“I know you have them dreams, same as me. The missus told me.” Papaw takes one of my hands in between his weathered paws, and squeezed. “You listen up, precious. This is a right big ole bunch a’talkin fer me, and I ain’t sayin’ it all agin! You’re bound for glory, and you’ll find it. You’ll find love and heartache, too. You’ll find yourself. But one day, you’ll find home again, back up here. There’ll always be a home fer you up in these here hills.”

We hear Mamaw bustling around inside; she’s singing “Rock of Ages” in her reedy voice. Papaw speaks faster, more intensely. “Erin, honey, you’ve always been one to make the right decisions. This is one of them. And I’ve made a decision, too. Here,” he says, handing me a tiny box. “I want you to carry this with you, and one day, wayull, give it to someone to show how much you care ’bout ’em. Hear, now, don’t go an’ lose the dang thing, though.”

Mamaw comes out as I tuck the box, contents unknown, into my jacket pocket. The afternoon came and went, and I left them there on the porch, waving and calling goodbye, as I drove down to the town, and the bus station, and the Navy… and now I’m back, I think, I’m back here, Papaw, and I think the decision’s done made itself, like you said they do sometimes.

“Muhmis…”

“Yes, Erin?”

I look over at her, leaning back against the couch, one long arm along the back, the muscles and tendons clearly defined in the warm light of the candles and the fire. She’s smiling at me, eyes wide, curious. Ah, Gwen, I think, if only… but no. You can’t be human any more than I can be Draka, but we can meet somehow. We have met, and joined our selves. It's time to be honest, even if it’s scarier than when I proposed to Alice.

“This is for you. I found it today, and I wanted… I want to give it to you,” I stutter, bringing the little cloth-wrapped packet from behind my back and handing it to her.

Her hands, tanned and strong, close gently around it; they unwrap the cloth and hold up a small, hand-carved wooden case. She turns it over in the varying light, looking at it carefully. There’s a tiny latch on one side, and Gwen undoes it, gently. The lid hinges open, and… her mouth drops open slightly. “Erin…”

I turn my gaze from her face, feeling a blush rising and a knot forming in my throat. I watch the logs in the flagstone fireplace; the golden-orange flames wrap around them and caress them, as they consume the wood. The comforting scent of wood smoke, hickory and cedar, rises from the hearth, and I feel my heart thud within my chest.

“Erin. My sweet,” and Gwen’s hand turns my face back to her. “This is lovely, simply lovely… so simple, yet so beautiful…I’m honored, darlin’, truly honored.”

On a golden chain, in her hand, dangles Papaw’s wedding band, and the smaller one of Mamaw’s. They’d given them to me, that day I left, somehow knowing that they wouldn’t see me again in this lifetime. I didn’t get back in time to say goodbye, I think, but maybe we never really have to… they’re still inside me; they helped me heal so much… grow so well.

“They were Papaw’s and Mamaw’s, Gwen. I wanted to keep them together, so I found the necklace today while you were out hunting quail.” My eyes meet hers. “They gave them to me before I left for the Navy; it was the last time I saw them alive. Papaw said to give them to someone to show them how much I care.”

“Oh, Erin…” Gwen’s eyes sparkle, and then to my surprise, tears trickle down her cheeks. The green in her eyes seems to darken, and she puts one hand over them. Her other hand, holding the necklace and the two worn wedding bands, closes around them, and there’s silence for a few moments. She’s still, more still than any human could possibly be, and tense. 

The rain patters outside; thunder rumbles away down the valley. The trees are swishing and creaking together out in the darkness. The lights flicker on again, but I get up and turn them off. I like the candlelight better. I stand, looking out the picture window, into the night and the rain, waiting for Gwen to regain her composure.

Her hands on my shoulders startle me, but I control my slight jump, and lean back against her. Arms surround me, hugging tightly, and her head rests on my shoulder, lips pressed to my neck, my chin, my cheeks… I turn inside her arms, and link my arms around her neck, pulling her gently down to me. We kiss for a long, breathless moment, and then I pull back slightly.

“Gwen, I didn’t put a note in there. I guess I didn’t know what to say…”

“That’s all right, my beautiful little wench. That’s fine,” Gwen murmurs, kissing me again.

“But Gwen… Muhmis… I know we talked about love, earlier. I want to tell you something. It’s taken awhile to think out, and I hope I can get this out right…” I duck my head, and then take a deep breath. “Gwendolyn, I’m yours. As much as I can give, it’s yours. There are places inside me you’ll never get to, and that’s something you’ll have to work on accepting, somehow. But as much as I can give, with an honest heart, I give to you. Completely.”

She pulls me close, and as our lips meet, I breathe, ever so softly, knowing she can hear me perfectly with her Draka senses, “I love you, Gwen.”

“I know,” she whispers back. “I love you, too. Oh, my sweet, my pretty-girl, ma douce… thank you…” Our lips meet, and she cradles me in her arms. The trip to the bedroom doesn’t take long, nor does undressing… What follows after is more intense, more personal, than anything I’ve ever experienced with Gwendolyn, or any other lover, human or Draka or servus, for that matter…


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9

The berries plunk one by one into the wicker basket I'm carrying, and every once in a while, one manages to make it to my mouth, too. Wild blackberries, the biggest I've ever seen up on these hills, and delicious, too. I'll make some tarts when I get back home, I think, as I pause to stir the brush at my feet with my walking stick. Don't really want to make the acquaintance of Mr. Rattler, now, or Ms. Copperhead. They love berries, too, as much as any human or bird.

“Save some for the picnic, darlin’,” Gwen says, stroking her long fingers through my hair. Her hand trails down my back, and pats me somewhere else. I jump, squeaking, and throw a berry at her. Moving impossibly fast, she catches the blackberry in her mouth, and grins at me. “Throw some more, why don’t you?”

“Grrrr….” I mock-snarl, and toss another her way. It disappears like its predecessor. We walk through the woods, listening to birdcalls, squirrels chattering from tree limbs, the sound of the wind in the trees. It's nice just to walk, hand in hand, with her, I think, even if she does have to shorten that long, graceful stride of hers in order not to leave me in the dust…

“This is nice, Muhmis…” I murmur, watching our shadows ahead of us, their shapes patterned by alternating brightness and leafy-green darkness as the sun dapples the forest floor. The smell of the woods greets my nose--it's leafy, a little dusty, maybe… a clean aroma, sort of earthy, too, I think. I wonder what Gwen smells with that Draka nose of hers?

“Yes, it is, sweetlin’…yes, it is,” she agrees, thoughtfully. She squeezes my hand slightly, and we turn off the path to a clearing. It’s one of my favorite spots; the spring in the middle of the rocks is a great place to just sit and listen, to think… also a great place to catch and hold fire salamanders, I remember. I wonder if we'll find any today?

**  
We’re rambling quietly through the woods, amid tall second growth of shagbark hickory and white oak; it smells intensely green here, the crushed ferns under our feet overriding fainter scents. The undergrowth is starred with wildflowers, and upslope is a thicket of rhododendron bushes. Deer-scat, I think. Sign of black bear, as well; there aren’t many humans in the uplands these days, and this property borders on the enlarged Appalachian Wilderness Preserve. It’s beginning to live again, and I feel at home in it.

“You know, you have a lovely scent,” I say to Erin.

She grins up at, mouth a little stained with wild blackberry juice. “Not too smelly, I hope, Muhmis.”

“No,” I say. “Sort of salty and musky – mild, appetizing. Link for a second.”

She does, and wrinkles her nose at the ghost of the sensation. “Eeeuuu – that smells good?”

“Well, I’m used to getting more information through my nose,” I laugh. “And I’m conscious of more of it. Yes, very good.”

We come to an open glade, with a pile of limestone boulders in the center. A spring bubbles up at their feet, winding away through the long tawny grass. Erin spreads the blanket in its shade, and unpacks the picnic basket; bread, fried chicken, ham, pickles, potato salad. We lie on our sides and eat, talking or listening to the chuckle of the spring-water as it trickles down the rocks. 

“I’ll be glad to get back to the estate,” Erin says. “Even though this has been a lot of fun.”

“Tired you out, have I?” I chuckle, narrowing my eyes at her. My pheromones have been swelling upwards of their own accord; I give the internal process a push.

“As Jenny says, oy vey! Why did your Ancestors make you so damned horny?”

“It was more or less a side effect,” I say, flicking the bones and crusts out for the scavengers to enjoy. “They anticipated that the work on the hormonal system would have some effect, but genetics wasn’t an exact science then. And as it turned out, nobody wanted to change it once it was done. Why not? More the merrier.”

I move the picnic basket aside and move onto her. Erin mock-whimpers, then smiles and strokes my arms as I laugh and begin to unsnap her jeans and tug at her t-shirt. She looks up in surprise as I stop with my hand on the tag of her zipper.

“Quiet,” I say, very softly.

She follows my eyes. The wind is from my back towards the top of the rock-pile, and the cougar’s paws must have been near-soundless on the bare stone; I still curse my carelessness, the more so as I have no weapon with me. It’s a big male, tawny and sleek, its paws looking huge as they splay to grip the rock. In an instant I take in the way it’s carrying its ears, the intent stare, twitch at the end of its tail, the settling motion of its haunches.

Painter, Erin subvocalizes.

It’s going to attack, I say. Get ready to get out of the way, I can’t be distracted.

She nods fractionally, scenting of fear as her heart speeds up still more. I move slowly into a crouch, just as the big cat’s muscles flow like molten steel under its hide. It leaps.

I come upright, screaming the same shriek of challenge as the other predator. It strikes at me while still in mid-air, and a white wash of pain strikes my left shoulder. My right fist slams into its body below the ribs, and it yowls and hunches as it flies by me to land in the meadow. It’s good and angry now, spinning around to attack again, screeching harsh and shrill with all its fangs showing. 

There’s just time to snatch up a rock and throw; not even enough time for a windup, but I break one hind leg. The forepaws slash at me, each tipped with ten hooked knives, moving blurring-fast even to Draka senses. I leap upward my own height and come down with both heels on its back. 

Uuuuhhhfff. Breath wheezes out of the cougar for an instant, and I drop flat on its back. My left arm is weakened, but I sink fingers into the ruff of fur and skin at its throat. My legs go around its waist, squeezing, and I raise my right fist and slam at the back of its neck.

The cat spins like a dervish, trying to dislodge me and get the claws on its hind legs into action, battering me against the rocky ground; I can feel the unbroken leg pumping, savaging the air. Something crunches at my third strike, and the motion slows. I squeeze savagely with my legs, reach across to grab under the jaw, wrench.

There is a crackling sound like green branches snapping. The cat convulses and dies as I rise from it and stamp-kick down on its neck to make sure – I’ve a healthy respect for this one’s grip on life.

“God, Gwen, are you all right?” Erin’s voice is shrill with concern.

I grin at her, fighting down the adrenaline-rush of sudden violent combat, working my shoulders. The shirt is torn to tatters, and there are four long grooves nocked from the deltoid down over my shoulder blade. Blood is already clotting.

“Nothing serious,” I say. “The subdermal armor stopped most of it – superficial damage, stings a bit.”

“Bandages –” she begins.

“Not necessary. It’ll clot naturally, and I can’t get infected. Come, wash it off for me.”

I strip off the remains of the shirt, sparing a glance for the dead cougar; flies are already walking on the eyeballs and tongue. Good pelt, I think.

Erin’s fingers are gentle on the wound; she’s a little alarmed when my skin twitches under her hands.

“You were so fast,” she says. 

Yes, I think. I don’t think she’s ever seen me in combat mode before. 

“What’s the matter?” she goes on. “You’re sweating…”

Her breath catches as I turn. “Combat overload,” I say huskily. “My system dumped booster-hormones into my blood because of the danger. Now I need to work them off.” My grin is a little like the cougar’s. “Guess how?”

**  
Her gaze arrows into me; I look down at the patterns formed by ruby droplets on the leaves carpeting the clearing. “Erin… Race Spirit, what’s wrong?”

I know she wants me, is hungry for me, and it makes me shiver, even though I’m standing in a patch of warm sunlight. “I…I saw the fight, and it was so fast… and then I thought you were… you were…” My voice shakes uncontrollably. “I thought you were hurt, or… You’re all bloody, my god… I mean…”

Muhmis winces a bit as she flexes her left arm. There are four huge scratches on it, and a few more near where her neck flows smoothly into her chest. I watch as the blood spurting from her wounds there and elsewhere slows to a stop. Her skin moves, twitches, under my hands as I pat the area clean with a hand towel from the picnic basket, and it feels… odd. I shiver a bit more. She shakes her head, rubbing one side with a fist. “Erin, I’m fine, really. No reason to get so upset… it’s all over now, and you’re safe.”

She kicks the cat over onto its back; its head rolls loosely on a broken neck, and there’s a crimson stream of blood coming from its wide-open mouth. “Damn good fighter, this one,” she muses, looking it over carefully. “One of the best cat fights I’ve ever had, barehanded.”

I watch her, waiting for the hardness to drop from her voice before speaking. A Draka hunting is one that's living on combat hormones for the moment, and it's definitely not wise to annoy one at that particular time. Not that it's wise to annoy a Draka at all, I inwardly chuckle. Ever. Gwen turns to me, leaf green eyes direct and large. Her pupils are huge; they almost swallow all the green. She walks over to me, and holds out her hand.

“You all right now?”

I shrug, my heart's still pounding away, and I feel sort of nauseous. “Muhmis?”

She tilts her head to one side, listening, and I go on as she towels her hair and wipes her face clear of redness. “Muhmis, I’m sorry--didn’t mean to interfere. I just got scared for you… and then when you and the cat were rolling around, and screaming…oh, god, I really got scared. I didn’t know what to think.”

“It’s not as though that animal could actually kill me, my silly wench,” Gwen grins down at me. She’s not got much of a shirt left; it hangs in ragged tatters from her shoulders. Her hiking jeans and low-cut boots still remain, though. I watch as her muscles ripple scarlet in the sunlight, and shiver.

“But… you were…dammit, Gwen, don’t ever scare me like that again!” I clench my fists, a wild, unreasoning anger sweeping through me. Her eyes widen a bit, and then she comes close to me, her right hand clamping on my shoulder with an incredible strength.

“Listen to me, darlin’…”

“No, I mean it…I worked so long and hard to be able to say this stuff to you, and talk with you, and then you go and wrassle a panter like that, and it makes me really ma—”

Her hand shifts from my shoulder to my mouth, shutting it firmly in a vise-like grip. “I said listen to me. I meant it. Hush.”

I feel my stomach turn over, and my legs quiver at the sound of her voice. She's not fooling around, I think silently to myself, so shut the hell up while you still can, girlfriend. I nod, as much as I can against the steel-strong fingers holding my mouth shut.

“Erin, you need to calm down. First off, you don’t ever tell me what I can, or can’t, do. No matter how close we are, how close we become, there are some lines, some boundaries, you will not cross. Is that very clear? You need to understand that.”

“Mmmh-hmm.”

Gwen takes a deep breath, holds it for a long moment, and then exhales softly. “Erin, I know you were frightened, but there wasn't a lot I could do at the moment, except fight off the animal. I was planning on hunting for it later in the week, perhaps, before we left, but now… that’s unnecessary. I fought it because it attacked us; if you’d been alone, it would have mauled and killed you.”

I shiver violently, remembering the fluid movement of muscle under skin as the big cat attacked Muhmis. “Mmhh-hmm.”

“You can't restrict me on fighting, honey. That’s hard-wired into me. I didn’t do it to scare you.”

Well, I forgot about that, honest, Muhmis, I say using the device implanted in behind my right ear. I'm so sorry, really… I was just so scared…

“I know. I know you were, and that’s a pity. I had no intention of frightening you, or even hunting anywhere near you. But the cat came at us, and I knew I had to finish it off. Which I managed to do,” she says, looking back over her shoulder with a broad smile on her face. A hunter's smile, I think, full of blood lust. I tremble again, and Gwen looks back at me.

“No reason to be afraid, darlin’. But don’t ever make the mistake of telling me what to do, now, ever again. Hear me?” Muhmis takes her hand down, her eyes holding mine in a direct green stare.

“Yes. Yes, Muhmis, I’ll never do that again… I’m sorry,” I manage, tears beginning to fall. My voice shakes and I cuss myself out for being such a wimp. Muhmis sighs again and touches the tear that’s rolling down my right cheek.

“Ssssaa, don’t cry, now… My sweet, don’t… we’ll talk about this later, though. Here, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Gwen says. “Go back to the cabin, fetch me some towels, some shampoo… and that hunting knife of your grandfather’s…that Bowie knife? Bring those things down to the river. I’ll be washing this mess off a bit; then when I’m not quite so sticky, I’ll skin this beast. Good fur to keep as a memento… a reminder not to take something less seriously since it’s 'just a hunt’.” Muhmis glances down at her arm and shoulder, smiling wryly. “Meet me at the river, now, and be careful with that knife. You don’t know how to use it, and I like all your appendages attached. Run along, now…”

She kisses my cheek; I bow my head to her and jog off toward the cabin. I return shortly with an armful of towels, soap and shampoo, and some clothes for Gwen. The Bowie knife’s carefully sandwiched between two thick terry cloth towels. I've no intention of drawing the dang thing; I'd probably cut my hand off trying, I think dryly to myself. I’m a swabbie, not a Green Beret. Gwen’s waded waist deep into the rushing, bitterly cold mountain river, scrubbing at her arms. I yell her name and she turns, smiling, as the sun plays across her body in reflective patterns from the glistening water.

“Gwen! Here, Muhmis… here’s some soap, and a washcloth, and some of your shampoo…” I wave them at her, and her grin widens. 

“Bring them to me, my pretty-girl.”

“Aw… please? Do I have to? That water’s cold, Muhmis…” I beg, eyeing the river with goose bumps already forming.

“Yes. Bring it to me, or I’ll come get it. And you… You wouldn’t enjoy that, much, I don’t think.” A chuckle, then: “Come on, be a good wench.” Her smile’s still there, but there’s an edge to it, and I know better than to argue. Sighing, I step out of my shorts and strip off my new t-shirt and bra. I look silly in briefs and sneakers, but I don’t plan on walking on those rocks barefoot. I hesitate, and then strip off the cotton panties, too, dropping them in the pile behind me. I hear Gwen’s laughter as she enjoys my embarrassment and chill, both quite obviously displayed by my body.

I daintily step into the cold, cold water and an involuntary gasp is wrung from me. “Gahhhh!”

Gwen reaches out and steadies me as I get closer to her, and I’m amazed to see the edges of the cuts’ve already sealed. They’re deep red against her tan, and the bleeding has long since stopped. My legs are going numb, and I try not to shiver too violently. The sun's nice and warm, but I'd really rather not be skinny-dipping right now. I hand her the soap and washcloth and let her scrub harder than I can. The blood skims off her, and she sighs with contentment.

When she’s done all the hard scrubbing, she hands me the washrag and the soap, and I wash her as she’s taught me how to do, so many years ago. It’s become quite routine, although my heart still thuds loudly when I stroke the cloth over her body, feeling her strength beneath my hands. I rinse her off, and then she ducks her head under for a long moment, using her fingers to get most of the mess out of her long red hair. She pops back up, and kisses me, hard, startling me. 

“Muhmis!”

“Hmmm… yes. That feels nice, doesn’t it?” Her lips on mine, she begins to stroke me, touch me. I shiver, both with delight and with cold. She goes on: “I still have some energy to work off, with the overdrive hormones that were pumped into my system… what better way?”

“Uh, don’t you want me to wash your hair for you? If you keep doing… ah, that… um, it’s going to be impossible for me to concentrate on much else. On top of that… hey, oh, mmhh… I’m freezing, Gwen!” I laugh, and she joins me. Tossing the washrag and soap easily to the shore, she turns around, her back to me, and sits on a convenient rock. I lean her head back against my stomach and soap her hair gently, rubbing my fingers hard along her scalp. Gwen groans in pleasure.

I take handfuls of water and rinse away the biodegradable soap, slowly, relishing the feel of her thick hair in my hands, and she purrs loudly against me. When her thick red hair is squeaky clean, I kiss her on the top of her head and sit her up. “All done, Muhmis…”

“Almost…” she grins, picking me up in a fireman’s carry, over her right shoulder. I squeal, at first in surprise, then in excitement as the fingers of her left hand probe my openings. I'm not completely numb from that damn cold river, I think to myself, in the moment that thought is still possible. Muhmis easily strides to shore, and lays me down on the pile of towels, first removing the sheathed Bowie knife, laying it aside. She smoothly mounts me, sitting astride my shoulders, her long thumbs running across my lips. I stare up at her, my pulse thundering in my ears. All I can think about is Gwen… her body, her scent… her. “Almost done, my pretty pony. Almost…”

**  
I’m enjoying the early evening breeze on the porch; the rocking chair squeaks companionably beneath me on the pine boards. It's been a long day, I think to myself, and run both hands through my hair. I've let it grow to shoulder-length now, and I like it. There are some streaks of grey showing up, but I think it makes me look more distinguished. Jennifer says it makes me look old, and that I should color it, or get Muhmis to do some Draka medical wonder on it. Nah--I like it the way it is. I like me the way I am, too, I muse, mostly.

The attack of the mountain lion, or painter, as Papaw would've called it, scared the you-know-what out of me, too, I think. I thought there for a minute that Gwen… the mere idea frightens me, more than I've ever really admitted. All the people I love have this alarming tendency to die on me, you know? It just makes a body wonder… But Gwen said it would've been highly unlikely that the critter could've killed her. Still, in the heat of the moment, I was afraid. Cold, alone and afraid. Have to work on that, old girl. It's just so complicated with Muhmis, though. I didn't mean to fuss at her; that's silly. As silly as being jealous of other people serving her sexual needs.

At that thought, I shift somewhat sorely in the rocking chair. I hope I don't hang around Muhmis much after she has those combat hormones or whatever dumped into her bloodstream… she was positively voracious; it was like being mauled by a big ole Draka cat or something. Man, I'm tired, and more than a bit sore. She did stuff with me we don't usually do… or at least I don't usually do, I blush. Jeezie petes, Peter would've been laughing his head off at me. I must have made a pretty massively startled face, too, when she… well, when she did what she did, I chuckle softly, remembering her strength, her scent, the fingers touching me, entering me where I wasn't expecting them to… and then her peal of bell-like laughter, when she looked at my face. That was kinda embarrassing, and then the way I yelled…

She has a way of bringing that out in me, shore nuff, I grin. I ease my feet up onto the railing of the porch and watch as the night shadows settle across the yard. The breeze is cooler now than it was during the day, and I'm enjoying the warmth of my flannel shirt, too. Muhmis comes up the trail from where the cat was, holding a shovel over one shoulder. The dying rays of the sun catch her eyes for a moment, and they glint like a cat’s; I shiver a little and then wave at her. She waves back, a casual toss of her hand, and walks up the path.

“Dinner ready, my sweet?”

“Yes, Muhmis… steaks, salad, homemade soup, dessert… it’s all ready for you,” I answer, smiling back at her grin. “Been ready for a few minutes now…”

“I wanted to get the carcass taken care of before nightfall. There are quite a few bear around here, and they'd make a mess, not to mention making this area somewhat more dangerous. I’ll be right in…” Gwen saunters past the porch, winking broadly at me, enjoying my blush and slight squirm, and goes on back toward the tool shed. I hear the door open and close, and I get up and go into the kitchen, to get everything out on the table.

“Pretty candles, darlin’,” Gwen says, as she washes her hands at the kitchen sink, looking over at the set dinner table. Drying her hands on one of Mamaw's handmade towels, she leans against the sink, watching me fuss around the table. She’s wearing a different sort of grin than she was just a minute ago, I muse, when I stop and look up at her. Our eyes meet, and she tosses the towel down, holding out her arms to me.

I go to her, snuggling against the hard-muscled, warm body of my owner. She strokes my hair, my back, down a little further, and then back up as I groan, sotto voce. “Tired you out this afternoon, didn’t I, ma mignonne?”

“Yes, Muhmis.” I look up into her clear, leaf-green eyes and see affection mixed with amusement. “You shorely did! I’m amazed I was able to cook dinner…” I lean into her, enjoying the warmth. She smells nice and woodsy, I think. And the clean, sharp scent of a Draka has gotten much less alien over the past fifteen years, hasn’t it, says the little voice inside my head. I stiffen, a bit, a tiny amount, but Gwen notices immediately.

“What, my pretty-girl?”

“Um… nothing, really.” I blush deeply, clear my throat, thinking of a way to answer her nicely. “I was just thinking how nice it felt, and how good you smell… even though I don’t have the same olfactory powers you have, Muhmis.”

“Is that all you were thinking? I know you well enough to know differently…”

“Aw, jeezie petes, Muhmis… Gwen, um…” I look down at my feet, truly embarrassed. It’s true, though, over the years, I’ve noticed we’re very good at reading each other. There’ve been times when a look was the only communication needed, and we knew exactly what the other person meant. That's hard enough to learn with another human being, like Alice or Jennifer, I think, but I've managed, somehow, to do that with Gwen. Alexandra and Ariadne seem more able to make that instantaneous connection with me, more than their mother, though. I wonder why?

“Muhmis, it’s just that stupid ole voice in the back of my head… I know, you think that’s quaint and silly… but it’s there, and it made some comment about how the scent of a Draka has gotten more familiar over the years to me. I guess it’s true, too-- I am more used to you than I was, and we’re able to talk without talking, sometimes. Especially when we…well… when we…um,” I stutter to a halt, my face turning a lovely shade of crimson. I’m sure it is, since Gwen’s smile grows wider and I feel the heat of blood rising in my cheeks. I wish, I wish I didn't blush so openly, I growl to myself, and Gwen’s smile opens into a full laugh, as she overhears my subvocalization. She hugs me tightly, kissing me long and deep, and then releases me.

“Hmmm… you’re such a sweet young wench. Let’s eat dinner--I’m famished!” I nod, and we walk to the table, where bee’s-wax candles glow warmly. The steaks disappear; Muhmis devours two, and some of mine, when I get full. We laugh and talk, remembering things past that we’ve shared, meals and times. She tells me some hilarious stories of her schooldays, and some of the hijinks she and her pals got up to. Knowing how energetic Alexa and Ariadne are, I can certainly imagine a whole school of young Draka women, bursting with knowledge, skill, and self-confidence… wreaking havoc on the surrounding countryside.

Dessert, a chocolate mousse I whipped up, waiting for Muhmis to come back from disposing of the mountain cat’s body, is a big hit, too; Gwen tackles her share with gusto. I’m slowing down, the big dinner having filled me up, and end up pushing my plate away, mousse half-eaten. “God, I can’t eat another bite. Want this, too?”

“Well, maybe in a few minutes you’ll feel like eating it. I don’t want to deprive you of it. It’s really very good, Erin. Been taking some lessons, or is this a skill you’ve hidden from me all these years?” Muhmis touches the corners of her mouth with the napkin, and then sips her coffee.

“I learned a lot from Mamaw, but I have been hanging out in the kitchen with Mavis. I like spending time with her, and the guys down at the barn, too. Bret and them,” I conclude, knowing my grammar’s slipping but not really caring very much. Gwen grins at me over the rim of her coffee cup, and then nods, setting it down.

“I've noticed. Feels more like home to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Muhmis, it does. I love being near Alice, of course, but sometimes we need space from each other, too. We’re very different in some ways. Same with Jenny, too. She’s really a wonderful friend—none better—but I like to hear the stories Mavis tells, or the tall tales down at the barn. I was so relieved when the boys down there finally accepted me.”

“We all have our needs, Erin. Our comfort zones, or things we do to feel comfortable. I paint. It relaxes me, and people seem to enjoy the results, too… you certainly claim to,” she says, reaching out and holding my hand on the table. The candlelight flickers in the deepening darkness; the sun's set and gone to bed, I remember Mamaw’s saying, and so should you…

“I am sorry for bothering you this afternoon, about the panter—the mountain lion—Muhmis. I didn’t mean to step over my boundaries.”

“Come on, sweet girl, let’s go talk in the den. It’s more comfortable,” Gwen says, leading me there. The room’s pitch dark, but she walks through it like all the lights are on, carefully guiding me to the couch. She kneels by the fireplace, and a cheery little blaze is soon crackling away, the scent of cedar filling the room. Gwen sits down next to me on the couch, an arm around my shoulders, and I wait for her to begin.

**  
“First, I know you were concerned about me, and I’m not in the least annoyed with that,” I say, smiling down at the head on my shoulder. “I know the way you… grizzled at me is a sign of how concerned you were.”

“But it set you off, somehow, didn’t it?” Erin says.

She knows me very well. “Yes – I kept it very firmly under control, because I knew I was misreading you.”

I think for a moment, watching the crackling fire. “You see,” I go on, “a drakensis can only perceive an order as a challenge – except in certain, strictly limited circumstances. When we’re children, for instance… but you’ve probably picked up on how Alexa, and now sometimes Ari, push at me, at my authority as a parent.”

“Yeah,” Erin says. “Like Pat does with me or Alice, or May does… only it’s more focused.”

“Very perceptive,” I reply, delighted with her quick wits. “I always knew you were more than a pretty –” I run my hand over her playfully, and she squirms in mock-rebellion. More seriously, I go on:

“As an adult, a drakensis can accept another’s leadership, but it’s always uneasy – we’re just not as social or gregarious among our own kind as you humans are. It’s very hard for us not to take a non-drakensis attempt to… order, or compel… us as a death-challenge. It feels… unnatural. Upsetting… like nails on a blackboard, very loud.”

“Ouch,” Erin says.

“Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass,” I say. “Instincts are like that, for a sapient creature. It’s not that I don’t value your… input,” I go on. “You’re intelligent, and you’re sometimes more… ingenious than I am. But to avoid pushing my buttons, use the approach you usually do – suggest, advise.”

“Flirt, wheedle?” Erin says, chuckling a little.

“Or ask, or persuade,” I say. “Just don’t tell me what to do. I can’t help how that feels to me.”

“I’ve been sort of ambiguous about it myself, from time to time,” she says dryly, nuzzling into my neck.

I pinch her gently. “That’s the point. You can adapt to being dominated by me; I can’t – my species is just inherently less flexible than yours.”

“One of us has to be reasonable, and it isn’t going to be you?” Erin says, and relaxes very slightly when I laugh.

“Oh, yes, that’s one way of putting it. The trouble is I’m a literalized metaphor, the Ancestors ideal of a Dominator; and that’s what I have to be – you humans can switch around. In the very long run, that may be an evolutionary handicap for us; human adaptability certainly is a plus in many respects.”

We sit quietly for a while…

**  
“Can’t you change that, somehow, Muhmis? One of those whole-organism makeovers you talked about having, a long time ago?” I watch the rosy glow of firelight on her tanned, high-cheekboned face, nestled against her side on the couch.

“Like you said earlier in the woods… eeeeuuuu!” She laughs, squeezing my shoulders a little. “Had three of those things, and I swore the last was the last, period. Damn uncomfortable process, darlin', damn uncomfortable… but that is one idea I’ve been thinking about.”

“I know you’ve got teams working on the human genome project, and that it’s almost done. Tom, the maven of genetics, now, was updating me the other day, before the Meeting to End All Meetings…”

Gwen looks down at me, a puzzled expression on her face. I grin. “Ooops, sorry, Gwen, local reference. First Gulf War, called Desert Storm. There was a quote from the bad guy, Saddam Hussein, about unleashing the Mother of All Battles…”

Her eyes go blank for a moment, as she calls up information on her transducer, and she nods. “Ah, yes, that little Iraqi man. Pity he tried to resist the Arrival the way he did. But it was a good demonstration, at minimal cost to the surrounding humans, as to the effectiveness of an orbital weapons platform, wasn’t it? Remember?”

“Yeah, Muhmis, I do,” I reply, wincing slightly. Even though the Nimitz was sunk during the Second Gulf War, by Iraqi missiles carried on suicide boats… the way he just sort of swelled, puffed, and then steamed into a puddle in his courtyard, leaving nothing but melted rank badges and his boots behind was kind of… gronky, I think, using the kids' word of the day. “I think everyone remembers that.”

“The longer they remember, the less likely they’ll be to try to do something similarly stupid.”

“I sure hope so.” Trying to mustard-gas a cohortarch and her command was kinda dumb, I think.

The fire crackles in the grate, and we sit quietly for a moment again, resting against each other.

“Gwen?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Are you planning on having any more children any time soon?”

Her red hair spills down on me as she undoes her braid and shakes her head. Gwen grins whitely down at me, and cups my chin with a gentle hand. “Yes, actually, Erin… I was. I’ve been thinking of having more. Would you be volunteering for another stint as my brooder?”

I blush deeply, and squirm a little. “Yes.” It comes out as a whisper, and I hide my face against her chest. One of her hands moves down to rest on my stomach, over my uterus, where she strokes me, softly.

“Ah, Erin… my sweet little one… look at me, sugar, come on… look up here at me…” She tugs my chin back up, and our eyes meet. “Good. I was thinking of you or Alice, anyway… you could bear around the time Jennifer’s due…”

“Who, if you don’t mind me asking, were you thinking of… or were you thinking about cloning again?” My blush slowly fades, but my heart’s thumping in my chest. Her hand, so warm, feels so lovely on me, and she’s being so gentle, so precise…

“No, not cloning, although that is an idea. I was talking with Schalk De Lange, and he brought up the idea of us having a child. It would be a good move politically; cementing his family more or less to the Ingolfsson-Von Shrakenberg clan, and he’s quite a nice youngster. He seems very loyal, and I appreciate that, especially now.”

“Oh.”

She looks down at me again, smiling gently. “ ‘Oh’? You sound, well… frightened a bit. Why?”

“Well, Muhmis… I was just remembering the night with you and uhmis Tamarindus, and how sort of scary it was, but exciting, too… I’m kind of nervous about being with him, I guess, if that’s the way it’s done when a male and female Draka have children…”

“Yes, darlin’, that’s the way it’s done… I'll explain more in more detail tomorrow, but please, you shouldn’t feel intimidated at all, not really. We won’t hurt you, you know that. It may be a little unsettling, or alarming, as it was with Tamar, but no permanent damage done, right?” Her wolf-grin makes little chills or thrills or something run up and down my back. I nod, wordless. “Then, sweetlin’… don’t worry. In fact, since you’re not really used to being with males, I’ll even have a little talk with him beforehand, just to make sure we remember to do things… slowly. More pleasantly for you. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Gwen,” I murmur, tightening my arms around her waist. “As long as you’re there, with me… maybe I won’t freeze up or anything.”

“You certainly haven’t had freezing problems in the past, when I’ve taken you with Peter or with Tom, now have you?”

I grin and duck my head. “No…”

“Then what’s to worry about, as Jennifer would say? You’ll find it, I promise you, as enjoyable and as memorable an experience as the ceremony with Tamar and yours truly, believe me…” She kisses the top of my head, and then rests her chin there. Purring softly, she goes on: “Erin, my Erin, I’m so glad you volunteered. Very glad indeed. It means a lot to me, since I know how much it matters to you.”

“All this talking we’ve done has brought me closer to you, Gwen. And for some reason, I want to have another little bitty wandering around. They’re fun, especially with Marie Claire to help out. I just wanted to…” I pause, not knowing how to say what’s in my heart. “It’s just that…you’re…”

“Ssshhh… I know, darlin’, I know…” Gwen’s lips meet mine, and we stay that way for quite some time, the firelight bathing us in a rosy, red-golden glow. The kiss feels good; her hand on my tummy, stroking, warm; she never takes it down further, which surprises me. Oh, thank god, maybe she's not… but she probably is, I think; I'm so tired, not to mention sore…a yawn pops out of my mouth as soon as we finish kissing, and Muhmis chuckles, her arms sliding around me, cradling me effortlessly. “Time for bed, Erin…”

**

I pick her up. This time I don’t think there’s much faking in her groan. “Muhmis, I’m sore!”

“I realize that,” I say, smiling down into her face. “So we’re actually just going to sleep.”

I lay her down in the bed and slip into it myself, curling around her, feeling a tender protectiveness. 

Besides, there’s that coming-of-age back at Gwendolyn Hall, I think. Have to do the youngsters’ justice.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter 10

“So you don’t have to use the implant method?” Erin says. She seems fascinated, but then, she’s got a rather personal interest in it.

“No. It occurred to some paranoid type during the design phase for the Mark III drakensis mods that somehow, somewhere, sometime, Draka might be stuck with access to brooders but without the technology for implant work.”

The aircar is banking low over the lush summer foliage of the Appalachians, low and slow and with the top retracted. These hills are like a carpet at this height; you feel as if you could almost run a hand over it, like the pelt of some great sleek green beast.

“How does it… work?” Erin asks.

“Well, the female drakensis egg – if it gets the right hormonal stimulus, which I can do by concentrating – develops a mobile shell with cillia around it. Little lashing tails, in effect. During intercourse, it migrates up the male’s penis and remains viable for a while, a day or two, getting fertilized along the way. Then he seeds the brooder, and with non-compatible seminal material, along goes the egg, which then swims upstream to the uterus – yours, in this case – and implants.”

Erin and I look at each other, then begin to chuckle, then laugh aloud. “All right, I admit, it’s a bit baroque,” I say at last. “But it does work. For sperm-egg merging, it’s becoming quite popular. Less fuss, and more… personal.”

“Not for you, I should think,” Erin says.

I look over at her and lick my lips. “Oh, yes it is,” I purr, and tell her just how the seeding is usually done. Amazing. She can blush right to the top of her ears…

**  
The cheers and the clapping my friends did when Gwen announced I was going to be her brooder again, over dinner, were enough to make a body blush, I think to myself, smiling. And of course, I so did. I wish I was as lovely and dark as Shawonda; then no one but Draka would know that I was blushing, unless they looked really close! Her deep ebony color is lovely, really, like midnight sky lit up from underneath by firelight. I watch her finish her workout, and grin as she winks broadly at me.

“Don’t be wearin’ yo’self out, girlfriend, before tonight,” Shawonda calls over to me, as I sit in front of the shoulder press machine. “You’ll need some of that strength, won’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah…” I blush deeply, looking down at my sneakers. “Just keep reminding me, why don’t ya?”

“Hey, you nervous?”

My snicker answers for me, mirthless. Shawonda, a towel draped across her broad shoulders, comes over and sits on the bench with me, an arm surrounding me with caring. “Hey, now, hey… girl, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay; we know Muhmis well enough now…”

“Yeah, I know. And I volunteered, on top of it all. But I’m just scared, a little. Being with two female Draka was one thing, but the males tend to be so… direct.”

“Yeah, baby, they are that…” My friend rolls her eyes expressively. “Not that I mind, of course… but I know where you’re coming from, I do. Need something to calm you down before the show begins?”

I shake my head no. “I think a workout will do fine. I just need to get some of this godforsaken tension out, kiddo. That’s all.”

“Oh, believe me, tension’ll be the last thing on your mind, after awhile, baby.” She laughs, a low, sensuous chuckle, and kisses me firmly on the lips. “Tell me all the wonderful details tomorrow, promise, now, Erin…”

“Hell, you’re as bad as Peter is…” I wince. “Was. You’re as bad as he was. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll tell you some interesting tales tomorrow over breakfast. That is, if I can walk to breakfast.”

Shawonda’s dark eyes have gone darker, it seems, for a moment, as she remembers Peter. They were friends before he and I were, I recall, and on impulse, wrap my arms tightly around her neck, burying my face in the crook between shoulder and throat. “Oh, Sha’… I miss him, so much, so much…”

“Mmmmh, baby, I do too. I sure do miss that old queen. He was good people, Erin. I know how close you two were, too. It’s gotta be hard to be without him, after everything…” She returns the hug, kissing me softly this time, her hands caressing my bare shoulders. “I miss him, too.”

“Hey, if you two are going to make out, why not go to your quarters?” Jenny stands before us, mock angry, hands on hips. She tosses her thick, dark hair back from her face, and grins at the two of us.

“Tththththththtt!!” I stick my tongue out at her, and Shawonda laughs delightedly. 

Jennifer looks down at me, a lecherous smile on her face. “Don’t wear that thing out, my pretty little yentzer!”

“What?” Both Shawonda and I say it at the same time, and Jennifer rolls her eyes, muttering something about “goyim”.

“It means sexual athlete, among other things, dahlings… now are you going to use that shoulder press or make out? I need to work out tonight before bed.”

“Bossy, bossy, bossy… as well as having a unusual vocabulary, right, Sha’?” I let go of her, after a final friendly squeeze.

“Mmh-hmm.” Shawonda does her head-wagging thing, something that’s always made me laugh; her head moves on a level, sideways, while the rest of her sits still. Back and forth; if she’d been serious, and angry, her hands would be on her hips and her eyes would be flashing. But this time, she’s grinning, and her eyes sparkle with amusement. “Bossy ain’t the word I’d use…”

“You two are incorrigible.” Jennifer laughs, walking over to the stationary bike and climbing up on it.

“Incorrigible Twins…”

“The Infamous Incorrigible Twins!”

“You two ‘ain’t’ twins, unless your families are… well, nontraditional…” Ms. Feinberg sings out, legs pumping.

“Of course we’uns iz twins, missy… why, jest lookit us’ns!” The two of us grin widely at her, and she laughs so hard she almost falls off the bike. “Sister, she’s a’laughin’ at us’ns!”

“She shore iz, Sister…” answers Shawonda, giggling.

“Ach, my god, you two are crazy, you know that?” Jenny says, trying to concentrate on working out and maintaining her balance.

“Crazy as a fox, girlfriend.” Shawonda gives me a final kiss, and blows one at Jenny, who ‘catches’ it. “See you ‘round, and hey, Erin…remember your promise to me, tomorrow morning!” She walks smoothly from the gym, muscles gleaming deep ebony under the lights.

“What’s that about, or do I want to know?” asks Jennifer, eyes on me as I fight off another blush attack.

“Oh, she just wants juicy details from tonight. I told her if she was very good, and if I could walk to breakfast, I might tell her some interesting stories…” I lay back on the bench and begin doing press-ups.

“Congrats, again… I sure hope you have more fun than I did, with Felice Vashon. Thank all the gods Gwen was there, too. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been any fun at all. That woman, that Draka, scared the shit outta me, dahling…” Jennifer’s brow creases in a rare frown, and I watch her from my upside down viewpoint.

“That bad, huh?”

“It was just… well, you know how helpless you end up feeling when Gwen’s really, well, turned on? When she’s, um, going to town with you?” I nod, and Jenny continues: “It was like that, I’m sure you know what I mean, but with Vashon, it was like she would take that way, way, too far. She sort of got off on my discomfort, my fear… and I was afraid, even though Gwen was there, and it was sort of ritualized, anyway…”

“I’m sorry, Jenny.” I look over at her, serious now. “It was overwhelming with Gwen and Tamarindus, but she didn’t seem to like hurting me, or frightening me too much. Sometimes she’d want to go way too fast, or too strong, and Gwen would, like, remind her that I’m human. That kept things under some sort of control, even though I ended up feeling like a piece of catnip being worried over between two big cats…”

“Gwen stopped Vashon a couple of times, when I cried. She’d start making out with her, instead, trying to take the edge off, I guess.”

“Did they, you know, do it before doing you?”

“Yeah, and that was amazing to watch. And experience. I almost fainted, watching and I guess scenting them go at it. It was much more intense, more of a physical match than anything I’d seen before, even during the party we had here.” She finishes on the bike and walks over to the abdominal machine.

“That was like watching a cat fight, pardon the expression. They scratched and bit each other, and tore up the bed… when they circled each other, growling, before all that, it was fascinating. Afterwards, with me, they just took me. I had no more control over that than I’ve got over an earthquake. And it shook me up like a 7 or 8 on the Richter scale, I can tell you!” I sit up, sweaty now, and begin doing shoulder presses. “They’re very different that way than we are.”

“In some ways, yeah… but haven’t you ever felt that with a lover, that you could devour them, or hug them forever, or a combination of the two? I have,” says Jennifer, puffing with exertion as she moves up and down, leaning back to push the weights down.

“Hmm. Yeah, I guess so. They just seem so much more intense than I’ve ever been with a lover.”

“You’re pretty damn intense, lover-girl,” Jenny blurts, laughing, wiping sweat from her olive-tan face with a white fluffy towel. “Pretty damn good, too.”

“This from a straight woman? Oy, vey, gevalt! What’s this world coming to, I want to know?” My laughter makes me have to stop the motions of the exercise for a moment, and I catch a deep blush rising on Jennifer’s face. “Hey, now—no big deal. You know how we’re getting used to each other, and everything. We’ve talked about that before…”

“I know. It’s just that I get a little embarrassed. I didn’t realize what I was saying…” Jenny looks down at the floor, resting a moment on the red leather seat of the exercise machine. “But that doesn’t mean I take it back, or mean it any less, Erin. You are a wonderful lover.”

“All these compliments, and cheers, and what-not are gonna make my head swell, so quit!” I grin, standing up and stretching. I walk over to the rower and program in my workout, using my transducer as interface. The machine sets up the workout for me, and I go to it, legs pumping, arms pulling, back straight. I feel sweat trickling down my sides, and down my hairline. I watch Jennifer, still wearing her blush, as she begins doing shoulder presses. Her top fits so damn well, I think… oh, great, I’m horny for her, but I have tonight to think about, too… what to do, what to do?

There’s a knock on the door, which surprises both of us. “Come on in, unless you’re the big bad wolf,” I call, and the doors swing open as Bret walks in, nervously. “Bret?”

“Um, hey, Sera Erin. Good evening, Sera Jennifer.” He stands, twisting his cap between his gnarled fingers, looking everywhere but at our sweaty bodies. I realize he’s shy about nudity, and I quickly slip my top back on. I keep my shorts on while I work out, but the top tends to come off when I get really hot. Sorry, old boy, I think, embarrassed for him.

“What’s up, Bret? Come over to work out some?” I joke. He continues looking down, shaking his head no. “Did Gloryrose have her foal yet? Is that it? I was hoping to be there for it…”

“Nope. No, ma’am. Um, could I talk with you for a second, out here?” He nods his head toward the doorway, and the terrace beyond. I wipe myself down as much as I can, and shrugging at Jennifer’s raised eyebrow of inquiry, I follow Bret outside.

Two of the younger stable hands, George and Li Peng, are standing there; another young man droops semiconscious between them. “Patrick?!”

“Yes, ma’am…” Bret makes a motion to the boys to stand my son up straighter, and I gasp with horror. His left eye’s swollen shut and grape purple. Dried blood speckles his face, and a new, red trickle lazily drops from one nostril.

“Jeezie petes, what the hell happened, Bret?” I go to my son, to hold his head up, to check out his injuries, and the smell of beer slams me in the face. “Whew! How much has he had?”

“Too much, Sera Erin. Way too much. Down at the Prancing Pony Pub, tonight. He said some worrisome, angry things, and the boys here, and me, well, we sort of shut him up before the trouble got… too big for us to handle.” Bret’s voice is a bit frightened, I realize, with surprise. He’s always been so in control, so self-assured. This must have been pretty bad, I think, noticing for the first time marks on the stable boys’ faces and on Bret’s ham-sized fists. I take Pat’s hands in mine, and his knuckles are bruised and torn.

One of them shakes his head. “Man, this guy, he’s only fourteen? He’s got a punch like nine miles of bad road! And he fights dirty. And his head, it’s like a cinderblock wall.”

“Let’s take him over to Shawonda’s; maybe she can patch him up right quick, and you guys as well. What started all this?”

Bret looks at me, straight on. “Your being the Muhmis’ brooder, I expect. That’s what he got babbling about, after drinking too much. I told Henry the bartender to cut him off, and then Patrick got in my face. The boys here didn’t like that much, and we took it outside, round back. Your boy can fight, that’s for damn sure, but he can’t drink and fight.”

“What? Why’s he upset… oh, man. This sucks, royally. Shit, come on, let’s take him over to the clinic,” I grind out, the veins starting to stand up in my neck.

“Um, ma’am…” Bret puts a gentle hand on my arm, and I turn to face him, looking up into his weathered, seamed face and ageless eyes.

“What’s with all this formal crap, Bret? I’ve always been just Erin to y’all…”

“It’s just that… listen. Why don’t we take him down to the east stable, and then we can talk for a minute, while he comes to. He’s close to it now, and I’d really rather not have to involve the clinic. Or anyone else, Erin.”

I stare at the old man, wondering what he’s trying to get at. I wonder if Patrick said some rather dangerous things… “Okay, let’s go, then…”

The two young men hoist Patrick between them in a four-armed carry, and we quickly move down the paths by the House, taking one that leads away, towards the east stable and the creek. Bret and I walk in front, and the boys, puffing, follow us quickly with their semi-conscious burden. As we approach the barns, Patrick wakes up and tries to punch his way free. The two of us, Bret and I, turn immediately at the curses and thuds, and Bret reaches in, yanking Patrick off Li Peng.

“Boy, I done whupped you once tonight; you wantin’ another?”

“Lemme the hell go, you old motherfu—” He stops in midsentence, seeing me blearily for the first time. “Ma?”

“Shut up, Patrick, and stop fighting this instant. I mean it. We’re going to go sit down here by the barns and have a talk, and you’re going to sober up. Li Peng, you okay?” The slight, sallow boy nods, holding his jaw and glaring at my son.

“Like hell. Let me go, now. I don’ have to obey you, too… I gotta obey enough shit as it is, I don’t need this crap, lemme go!” He tries to shrug free of Bret’s hand, and then swings wildly at the older man. Bret catches Patrick’s fist in one of his, and squeezes, brutally. The cords and tendons pop up in his workman’s arm, and my son’s suddenly on the path, on his knees, squealing. “Nnnnhhhhh—”

“Oh, please, guys, come on, we don’t have to fight like this. Patrick, Pat, stop trying to fight Bret, I mean it…”

Bret relents a bit, and Pat stumbles to his feet, holding his fist to his chest, and cursing with a steady, inventive if repetitive, stream of obscenities. The two youngsters look horrified, but Bret merely crosses his arms and waits until Patrick has to take a breath.

“Boy, you’re about this far” Bret gestures with two fingers, “from me whupping the pure d. hell outta you, whether or not yo’ momma here approves of beatin’s. So do us all a big damn favor and shut up, now!”

Patrick stops cussing and looks at the older black man for a long moment. He’s so drunk, my son is, that he’s having trouble standing up without swaying from side to side, I realize, and feel sick. Patrick, what’s wrong?

“Hey, listen, Pat, let’s just go sit by the barns and talk, okay? Want something to drink, some water, I mean?” My voice is shaking and I curse inwardly at it. This wasn’t in the parenting books, folks. Now what do I do?

“Sheee-hit! Don’ tell me wha’ to do, you…” Patrick makes a slapping motion toward me, and I bounce backwards out of range, my reflexes doing me some good this time. “Nothin’ but a damn brood mare, an’way… bit—”

Bret’s fist sinks into Pat’s stomach, and air whuffs out. Patrick folds in half like a card table, and crumples to the pine needle-covered path with a soft thud. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, Sera Erin,” Bret says, grinning, not one iota sorry at all. “Let’s jest carry this ole boy down to the barns, and then we’ll try to talk some sense into him, an’ pour some coffee down his gizzard.” He hoists Patrick over one shoulder like a bag of oats and starts down the path. The three of us, me and the two stablehands, follow in his wake like destroyers following the Nimitz, I think, and shiver. What the hell am I going to do with Patrick?

**  
“Patrick,” I say. “You know, you can be annoying sometimes, when you just emote instead of thinking.”

We’re alone in my study; it’s dark, polished wood and books and night outside the windows, a low fire and a few glowglobes. Patrick is looking sullen and frightened at the same time. His eyes go wide as I pour two brandies and hand him one.

“That metabolite pill should have sobered you up, so this is just a mild relaxant,” I say, and examine his spectacular collection of bruises. “You look like you could use it. Lose any teeth?”

“Don’t think so, uhmis,” he says, forgetting to sulk for an instant, fingering his jaw.

“You did very well, considering the way the alcohol was slowing you down and screwing up your balance,” I say, reviewing the fight through the transducer records of the participants. “I like your style, there –” I link and relay a sweep kick that segues into a spinning back “—and there. Aggressive but precise. Of course, it didn’t help that you were seeing double.”

“Ah… you aren’t angry?” he says tentatively, sitting down gingerly.

“More annoyed,” I say. “Alexa, now Alexa was angry – that’s why I pulled rank. She loves your mother, you know, and didn’t like the way you insulted her. For that matter, I love your mother, but I’m older.”

“You do?” he blurts.

“Well, we more or less decided that was a good definition of our feelings,” I say, swirling the cognac and taking a sip. “I thought you and Alexa had arrived at a similar understanding?”

“Well…sort of… yeah.”

“Now, you’re upset about Erin brooding for me again, I gather?” His face closes in, and I sigh. “Patrick, do you like Ariadne?”

“Ari? Sure, she’s OK – sort of testy sometimes.”

“Well, in case you don’t remember, Erin brooded her. Patrick, she wants to do this, and it’s high-status.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he mumbles.

“You’ve always been uneasy about the sexual aspects of her being my saafn, haven’t you?” I say.

“Well –” he gropes for words. “She’s my mom.”

“Yes, and she’s also my bedwench,” I say. “Patrick, you mother’s never going to get physically older than she is now. You don’t really expect her to stop having a sex life because the thought embarrasses you, do you?”

“Well, um, when you put it that way, no, not really.”

“And you don’t think she’s unwilling, or that I hurt her, do you?”

“Ummm – no.”

“Good. You serve Alexa’s pleasure, and I don’t think you mind that at all, right?”

An unwilling grin. “Yeah, uhmis, no complaints on that score.”

“So, then… what’s the expression: cut your mother some slack.”

“Ummm… OK. It’s just hard to remember, you know?”

“Oddly enough, I do know,” I say, and grin. “Perfect memory, remember?”

We sit silent for a while; I can feel some of the tension gone from the air. “I suppose you’re having difficulty adjusting to your own status as saafn still,” I say. His silence is eloquent. “Well, that’s natural enough,” I go on. “Patrick, did you know that the original plan was to convert all the humans here to servus – their children, that is?”

“Yes,” he says. The unspoken so? is plain.

“Patrick, this sort of thing is the reason we Draka planned to do that. Your mother talked me out of it.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he says. He’s got a good brain there somewhere, when he comes out of his hormonal fog.

“Now, think about this. If you were in an all-human society, do you think you’d never have to accept someone else’s authority?”

He flushes and looks up at me. “Not because they were another species.”

“True. But you’d still have to do as you were told now and then. And you wouldn’t be Patrick Wayne d’Ingolfsson, who gets to train with the Space Force, who has the ear of the planetary ruler, who from what I hear really enjoys his… what did Erin call it? Rock-star status?”

His blush gets fiercer.

“Now, you could think about emigrating to Samothrace, with this offer they’ve made.” He tries to control his face, and I laugh gently. “Of course you’ve thought about it, what human on Earth/2 hasn’t? Think about this, though, Patrick. You’d be a distinctly second-class citizen there; unclean, because you’d grown up in a drakensis household. Regarded as a pervert, never allowed anything but drudgework. And in a maximum of a hundred and twenty years of an extremely boring life, you’d be dead. Whereas here, you can expect to live indefinitely – also your mother’s doing – and go everywhere and do everything. Planets, stars…”

He nods. “Yeah,” he admits. “I had thought about that.”

“Good,” I say. “It’s true you’ll always be Alexa’s, but I don’t think you find that too gruesome most of the time. So consider the alternatives. She’ll have cooled down by now; you can go and talk about things with her, if you want. And say something to your mother.”

“Ah… that’s it? No punishment?” he says.

“Bret hit you a lot harder than I’ve ever done,” I say, and shrug, smiling. “Consider it a learning experience. Push the annoying past a certain point, and someone will object.”

**  
Patrick, thinfilm medpatch shiny below his eye, and on his lower lip, waits for me, leaning against a planter. “Okay, let’s get this over with, Ma. I’ve been fussed at by Uhmis Gwen, yelled at by Muhmis Alexandra, and now you… anyone else standing in line?”

I sit down on the planter, not saying a word. How do I say what I need to, I wonder silently, looking up at the broad shoulders of my son. He’s got quite handsome in the past few months, filling out his tall frame well. Not muscle-bound, just lean and powerful-looking. Hazel eyes, jet black hair, smooth fair complexion… moves like a dancer, too. Apparently he fights pretty well, for someone who was as drunk as he was tonight. ‘What do you want me to say, Pat? You’ve been a naughty boy, go to your room and think about it?”

“That sounds about like what you usually say. Want me to?”

I sigh. “No. That’s the point. What I usually say and do won’t work anymore, honey. You’re a man, now, at least physically. The emotional maturity part will follow, I hope. Or you’ll end up in more fights, and one of them is gonna be bad enough not even my Muhmis can pull you out of the shit.”

His eyes widen as he hears what I’m saying; I don’t cuss in front of him or the other children as a general rule. When I do, it’s usually a clear signal to pay attention. I go on:

“Patrick, this is the growing-up time. It’s not an easy time, and sometimes it’s as much fun as juggling handfuls of squid in a Laundromat. But it’s something you’ve got to work out. I can help you as a friend, but basically my authority over you as your mother has become nil. You’ve got to answer for your actions; I can’t shield you anymore.”

“So you’re saying I’m up shit creek without a paddle from now on, is that it? I can see where your loyalties lie…” He turns away, crossing his arms defensively. I watch the muscles in his back flex for a moment while I count, mentally, to ten. I have to stay calm about this, old girl, I tell myself. Calm.

“Turn back around here, face me, and let’s talk like adults, not spoiled kids. Or enemies. I’m not your enemy, Pat. Never have been, never will be. But turn around and listen.”

He spins on a heel, and crouches to face me. “I know I was an accident. I know I happened cause you and Dad got it on together with her. I know there was a hell of a lot more planning for Ariadne than there was for me, and now you’re doing it again. Over and over, you’re telling me I’m worth less to you than those Draka children she implants in you. How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

My ire rises, and I lean toward him, grinning wickedly. “Oh, yeah, like I enjoy being a slave? Dream on. I don’t. And I have no fucking idea where you get the ‘they’re more important than poor little me’ crap. I’ve always given you just a tad more affection than I did them, even when I wasn’t thinking about it. I’ve given you opportunities, bent the rules for you… and you turn around with this?”

He starts to say something and I cut him off coldly. “This is grown-up time, Patrick. Listen. You’re important to me, like the air I breathe. But treat me like you are, and you’ll end up with nothing. I have dreams, mister, for the whole damn human race, and you’re not going to throw a spanner in the works. You’re not going to embarrass me, or cause uproars here at the Estate. I won’t tolerate that.”

“Oh, you won’t? All you’ll do is get down on your knees to her and beg, like you always do.”

“Not any more. That’s what I’m trying, somehow, to get through your thick skull. Not any more. How can you say things like what you just said? You don’t seem to respect me much as a person, Pat. If you can’t, then we can’t maintain a friendship.”

“How can I respect you? You want honesty, right? You’re always carping about it, you and Alice and Jennifer. Here’s some. How can I respect the woman who helped them take over the world? Who made us all slaves? That’s what we are. Slaves. They control everything, and it makes me sick sometimes. I know they’re listening, she’s listening, right now, probably. And I don’t care. That’s honesty, too. I don’t respect you, Mama. That’s the problem.”

“You’re damn right that’s the problem. And it’s yours. Not mine. I can’t talk with you if you’re not willing to listen. Jesus, you’re my flesh and blood, Pat. You’re part of Peter. You have no idea how much you mean to me, how much this hurts to say. God…” I choke back a sob, angrily. “Patrick… yes, we’re slaves. And yes, I helped her by running her computer networks. But I didn’t engineer the Arrival; I didn’t make us slaves. It would have happened, regardless of whether I helped or not. I made my decision, Patrick, when faced with two alternatives: live and serve, or die. I want to live. I want the most humans possible to live. That’s part of my plan.”

“Good justification, as they say in school, Ma.” He turns away, dropping his eyes to the tessellated patterns of tile on the floor. A breeze shifts the limbs of the trees nearby, and a hoot-owl calls once, then twice. The Estate is quiet, now, and it’s late. As if I needed this tonight, of all nights, I think to myself.

“Whatever you want to call it… listen, they could have popped through here, launched a biobomb, and waited a few months for the bacteria they’d release to clean up the mess. Pop, boom, swish—no more pesky humans. How’s that sound? Or how’s it sound that all children born after the Arrival are made automatically into Servus? One generation of pesky humans, and then no more. Poof! Sound fun? Those were, and still are, to some extent, viable options for the Draka.”

“I know, I know… she told me about you talking her out of that last one. Big deal. We’re still slaves.”

“That’s the way things are right now. In the future, who knows? That’s something I’m working on.” My voice is calm now, cold. “But that’s missing the main point. We’re human because one very powerful Draka happened to listen to one very powerless human. If she can listen to me, how come you can’t?”

“Cause I’m not as good as a Draka, I guess. I was an accident, remember?”

I stand up and stare into his eyes. He tries to look away, and I grip his chin, pulling his head back around to look me fair and square in my face. “Listen to me, you silly young pup. Yes, I didn’t plan you. But I kept you. I would have fought to the death to keep you. Peter loved you, so much. He was so damn proud of you, so protective. Maybe somewhere along the line you missed that message. I don’t know how, since we told you so many times that we love you, and I did the same, all the time you were growing up. You’re not as good as a Draka in many things, Patrick. None of us are. But we have something else going for us—creativity, a sense of being able to adapt. That makes all of us special.”

I shake his chin lightly for emphasis. “I don’t love being a slave. I don’t want to live like this—it’s not fun. But it’s sure as hell better than being dead. I’ve seen that, with my own two eyes, my ears… I’ve tasted it, and it sucks. Dead is dead. You want to be dead, keep going the way you’re headed. You’ll get there faster than you can imagine.”

Dropping his chin, but not his eyes, I continue, in a softer tone: “And what a waste that would be. You’re a wonderful young man, just starting out. Don’t blow everything you’ve got out ahead of you… you’re able to go places and do things I only dreamed of. And what you dream of, your children will be. That’s why you have to wake up, smell the coffee, and decide to be a rational person, rather than this angst- ridden, hormonal monster you’ve become.”

“Monster?”

“Well, yeah, at times…” I smile, a little, still staring at him. “I want you to have all you can dream of, Pat. I’m working on it. I’m even working on the slavery thing. That will take time, if indeed I can fix it at all. There’s a limit to how much the Draka can adapt. And another thing… Gwen has a name, and a title. If you can’t bring yourself to call her by name when we’re talking, call her by her title. Not just ‘her’. Ok?”

“Yeah.”

“I think a lot of this missing respect issue boils down to jealousy or something. I’m no psych, no shrink, but part of me is telling me that you’re jealous of Gwen.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, seriously. You are, aren’t you? You want Mama to be there 24 hours a day, seven days a week, whenever you need her. You still haven’t gotten the idea that I’m a woman, with needs, desires and a life of my own, apart from yours. Have you?”

“I guess you’ve got this all figured out, huh? More stuff she told you to say?”

“GAAHHH!!!!” I raise my hand to slap him, and stop. No way, won’t do it… wouldn’t be prudent, just wouldn’t be prudent… but what do you do? My mind races as I try to find a way to break through this crust of his.

“Giving your Ma more probs, then, are ya?” Alice’s voice cuts through my mental rat race, and both Pat and I turn in surprise. She’s standing in the doorway of the patio, a cool linen dress ruffling slightly in the breeze. Her blonde hair, free, moves in the air as she walks over to us and faces Pat, arms akimbo.

“You listen, old boy…” she begins. Patrick mumbles “shit” and starts to walk away. Alice’s hand snakes out and slaps him squarely across the mouth. “I’ve had enough of that from you. I’ve bathed you, burped you, and cleaned up after you, and you act like this? No way. Maybe Erin didn’t come down hard enough on you. Maybe she’s lived a sheltered life, compared to mine. You’re going to respect her, and me, and the others, or you’ll leave. It’s as simple as that.”

“Hit me again and see how much I respect you.” His voice is trying for Clint Eastwood, but it is shaking with fear, anger and embarrassment. Close only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes, old boy, I think to myself. My heart is thudding, aching, against my chest from the effects of the conversations and seeing Alice, my wife, hit Patrick, my son.

“Threaten me again, and you’ll be on your way out the door. I’m head honcho here. Don’t ever, ever forget it. I’m the Household Manager for Planetary Archon Ingolfsson. You’re the serf of her daughter. Who has more power here? You’ve been insulting the Planetary Archon’s Prime Counselor. Who’s got more power there?” Alice walks closer to him; he backs away, but she follows him, until she’s got him pressed up against the marble wall. “You want to act like a mad dog, we have ways to deal with that. You don’t want to learn about them. Your mother has been tryin’ to give you loving, caring, sensible advice, and you treat her like shit. No more. I won’t tolerate it. You’re not only insulting a serf who is way to hell above you in rank, you’re insulting my partner. And that won’t fly, me bucko.”

“Great. Everybody’s pissed at me. Thanks a lot.” His face’s turning crimson, and I know from experience that he’s close to crying. As close as he’s gonna get, I think, and gently touch Alice’s arm.

“Honey, honey… calm down. Please.”

“You’re always fixin’ things for people, Erin, and you let him walk all over you with boots on. No more. I mean it. The next insolent thing that comes out of his mouth is the last thing he’ll say in this House, if I have to sit on top of Alexandra to get it. And I will, too.”

“I know. He knows. Please, I don’t want this to come down to a confrontation like this. Pat, please—apologize to Alice. Let’s work this out. I am tired, too, of all the crap. No more is right. We’ve got to work this out, so everyone will be satisfied.”

Pat hangs his head, sniffling, wiping angrily as one tear slides down a cheek. “Pat, please?” I touch his hand, and he jumps a little.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Alice opens her mouth to say something, and I put a finger to her lips.

“Hey, great. Let’s go inside, get some coffee, and sit down. This will work out, I know it will. We can still be friends, Patrick. Let’s give it another try. I was madder than hell a minute ago, but now I’m calming down. We can talk this out.” I take hold of Ally’s hand and drag her inside, leaving Pat to regain his composure.

“You let him off way too bloody easy, woman,” hisses Alice, and I shush her with a kiss. 

“There’s only so far you can push a guy, or a gal, for that matter. If we had pushed right then, while he was feeling so vulnerable, he’d be likely to just explode. Give him a minute, and us, too, and then we three will sit down and hammer things out. This has to stop, tonight, Alice. I can’t keep going through this with him.” I sit down on a couch. “I never knew it would be so damn hard.”

“Not only are we going through the pangs of adolescence, honey, we’re going through it with a generation who’s grown up under the Draka. That’s got to change things. Does he want to emigrate?”

“God… I hope not. Haven’t asked him. Jeezie petes, Ally, what if he does? I couldn’t… I don’t know that I could… stand it, losing him like that…” I sniffle, and drop my head into my hands. I’ll be in freakin’ great shape for later tonight, I wince. Lovely. I feel gentle arms surround me, and then Ally’s kissing me, firmly. I relax into her arms, feeling safe within them. No matter what, she’s stuck by me, through thick and thin.

“Okay, can we… um, well, are you guys busy, now?” Patrick enters the room and stops, looking away. Alice laughs and chucks me under the chin, kissing me one last time.

“Naw… come in, sit down, I’ll order some coffee and cake, and we’ll bloody well work this out. Your face okay, cobber?”

He strokes the red patch. “Yeah. I deserved it, and more. I’m sorry, Mama, and Mom Alice. Really. I want to work things out—I don’t want to leave, really and truly. Can we talk, or have I been too much of an asshole?”

“Never, dear boy. Sometimes close, but never there. Sit down here with me, and give me a hug,” I command, and grinning, he does so. It’s a real hug, not a fake one, and I feel his strength grip me in love. He whispers, so softly only I can hear:

“I do love you, Mama. I do respect you, now… after this. Forgive me?”

I nod, my grey-brown-blonde hair mingling with his jet black. Alice leaves us to ourselves for a few minutes, fetching coffee and cakes. The conversation wends into the night, between the three of us, talking as friends, now, mostly, not enemies…

**  
“Thanks for putting this off,” Erin whispers, rising from her knees and coming to us after we finish the ritual commands.

Her skin sheens damp, and her body is responding well to the combined pheromones and what she’s been watching. A little wide-eyed, but she’s had over a decade to grow used to a saafn’s role in pleasure now. I can see her surrendering to the wash of sensation, and it brings out my own hunger, sharp and direct. 

“No rush, sweetlin’” I say. “The egg stays viable for several days.”

“It also itches,” Schalk grumbles, grinning. “I’m damned sure that it was a female who designed this system.”

I grin back and kiss him. “Odd you should say that; I was convinced only a male could have come up with an idea like this. Let’s seed her first, then move on to recreation…”

Schalk and I take her scent, a deep open-mouthed inhalation, and she giggles a little. “Oh, lordy, I feel like a piece of catnip in the lion’s den,” she says.

“You are,” I say, growling softly. “A delicious wiggling scrap. And we’re going to devour you very thoroughly. Looking forward to it, aren’t you?”

“I can scent she is,” Schalk says, teeth showing, and touches her.

“Eeeek!” 

We lift Erin between us; she gives a groan as we start our taking of her, but she’s smiling as well as panting when we lay her on her back and spread her open. The bed is tousled, but there’s not much blood on it; Schalk has excellent self-control, and besides, he’s much younger than me and used to my authority; I’m alpha here, and for now he’s comfortable with that… A squeak as Schalk enters and begins; another, muffled as I lace fingers behind her head, mount her and then lean back against him. Hands move, and bodies sway with the rhythm.

“Let’s ride this pony,” I laugh over my shoulder…

**  
The dawn seems to explode past the horizon, bringing with it the calls of multitudes of birds, both natural and some of the newer genengineered ones. A family of peacocks parades past the balcony I’m sitting on, wrapped in one of Muhmis’ bathrobe things, loungers, she calls them, I remember. It’s silky but warm, and I wrap it more tightly around my shoulders in the cool breeze. The mist bleeds off the land before me as I sit and try to collect my thoughts.

Last night had been… delicious. Not scary, not really much at all. I don’t know how much I can coherently tell Shawonda, though, I grin to myself. It got all sorta blurry there near the end. Too many hormones, or something… They keep going like energizer bunnies, I think, as I hear a groan and then a hawk-shriek of pleasure erupt from the bedroom beyond. The birds startle at the noise, and scurry off into the hedges, the male’s tail dragging absurdly behind him. He leaves a feather, too; I’ll have to see if I can cadge it from the gardener for May. She loves stuff like that; must’ve inherited the pack rat gene from me. I know she got the shopping gene from her darlin’ mother, Alice! Not me!

My body feels all tingly and stretched out; amazing what hours of pure, unadulterated, imaginative sex with two Draka can do, I muse. Actually, I’m damn surprised I can walk! Schalk was very nice, though; very sensitive and positively as thorough as Gwen has ever been. And Gwen was… the best I think I’ve ever had with her, to be honest. My hands stray down to my flat stomach, tracing it softly through the silky material of the lounger. I wonder how long it’ll be before I start showing? Jenny’s not, yet.

I hear the sound of laughter, and then conversation, behind me and turn to look. Gwen’s kissing the serving wench soundly before smacking her firmly on the ass, sending her on her merry if somewhat dazed way; Schalk De Lange is laid out naked on the bed, relaxing as he watches the young human leave with her empty breakfast cart rattling. Gwen sees me peeking in and calls to me:

“Come on in, younglin’… breakfast is… was… here,” she laughs, her clear, bell-like voice ringing in the morning light. She pours some juice for her and De Lange, and perches on the bed. Her tan merely highlights the muscle tone, I think, watching how gracefully my Muhmis moves. I enter and go down on my knees, bowing formally.

“No need to be that formal, honey,” Schalk chuckles. He sits up, sipping his juice, and winks at Gwen. “I’d say the need for that level of formality went out the window last night, with all those moans, and that charming little squeak when you…”

I blush, crimson red, and rise; I feel my ears burning hot. The two drakensis, at their ease with their chosen brooder, laugh together at my embarrassment, and finally I join them. I walk over to where the breakfast dishes have been set out, and find myself possessed of a ravenous appetite. Gwen comes up behind me and strokes a hand down my back, between my shoulder blades.

“Not such a frightening night, or morning, now was it, my pretty-girl?” she murmurs into my ear, her tongue flicking in and out so fast I’m not quite sure what I felt, until she does it again, more slowly this time, teasing. I shiver under her hand, in delight, and putting my plate down, I turn into her embrace, squeezing round her neck with my arms, having to stand on tiptoe to reach up there.

“Oh, Muhmis… it was lovely… thanks, thanks for everything…” I whisper, softly, my lips against her hot skin, feeling the pounding of her pulse beneath them. Her arms tighten around me, carefully, and she nuzzles against my neck, nibbling her way to an earlobe.

Schalk joins us, and I’m sandwiched, as I was many times last night and this morning, between two Draka, their strength supporting me, amazing me, thrilling me. “Hmmm… perhaps we should have this wench for breakfast, too?” De Lange says into my hair, his hands exploring my back, down further…

I stiffen, just a little bit; I’m sore, from all the various (and sometimes novel) activities of which I’ve engaged in the past few hours… Gwen chuckles. “Let’s let this little pony rest for a bit; we can always take her later in the day, or tonight, as well. It was an enjoyable experience, I think, for everyone involved.” She releases me, and I giggle as her hands fondle my breasts gently. She kisses De Lange, over my head, and I hear their mingled purrs of contentment.

Picking up my plate, I duck out between them before they change their minds, and walk over to the table. There’s a package there, with my name scripted onto it. I heft it, wondering, and catch Gwen’s eyes on me. She grins, and nods toward the package. “Go on, sweet, it’s for you—something Schalk picked out the other day…” Muhmis begins loading her china plate with food, and Schalk does likewise.

I sit down at the table and untie the silk ribbon.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11

“That finishes that!” I yell, and toss the file folder onto my “out” stack. Sasha, my personal assistant, laughs and hands me a new folder. This one’s edged in red and has a data seal on it; her hands shake a tiny amount as she hands it over.

“Sera Erin, this just came in… from PrimeLine, too. Level Four reading… so, no, I didn’t peak. I value my eyesight too much for that!” She sighs in relief as I place my thumbprint on the data seal, effectively signing for it. “Glad to get that one off my desk, for true now!”

“Sasha, Sasha, Sasha,” I intone in my best Cary Grant fashion. “Probably just another accountant asking why we haven’t sent so many of this or that, or the Personnel Department telling us that folks routed here for us have somehow ended up in the Orion star system…”

She laughs once again, a deep, throaty chuckle, raspy from years of cigarette smoking, and waltzes back to her desk, plugging herself back into the network via transducer. She’s some woman, I think; survived the economic crashes of Russia and Eastern Europe by becoming a major bootlegger, and then when things got rather too hot, she ended up here, in the U.S., with a forged passport. Somehow, her talents caught the eye of our personnel director, Lawrence Timmons, and he hired her on the spot. Now she’s got English down almost perfectly, and she loves the job. Loves some of the side benefits, too, I think, watching her wink at a young office boy, delivering mail. He blushes, but winks back.

I place the tiny envelope on my desk, and open it. Tendrils of blue metal spring out, almost plant-like, and my hands move back in reflex. If it just didn’t look so… weird, I say to myself. It’s like out of a horror movie… ‘The Data Chip That Ate Manhattan!’…it moves to my desk compinset, and I close my eyes, concentrating for a moment on making the link with the data chip as it integrates itself with the unit.

Tamarindus flashes into being before my closed eyelids, and grins. “Greetings, Erin d’Ingolfsson, and Service to the State.”

“I live to serve, uhmis Tamarindus,” I reply automatically, making sure the inflections are right. This is a live link, so no editing afterwards to make any boo-boos go away. I smile back, mentally, as well as actually. The folks working in offices have gotten used to their coworkers closing their eyes, and then smiling, as well as whispering to themselves; a few years ago, anyone doing that would have been carted off to the Funny Farm.

“You’re curious, I know, as to what this is about. I wanted to interface directly with you over something, and your darling Muhmis isn’t to know. Don’t worry,” she says, noticing my frown, “it’s not anything vital to the security of her Archonate or anything… this is something more fun, Erin.”

“Yes, uhmis?” What in the world is this about, I wonder silently to myself.

Tamarindus stands and stretches, patting a young servus buck on the head as he hands her something to drink. She’s at RohmPlace, I can tell, from the color of the sky—a light pink and blue mixture, with blurry cirrus clouds in the Martian sky—and from the background that comes into the shot; her House. “Cut over your transducer circuit to security channel one, Erin, priority alpha Decurion. Then we’ll have a little chat…”

Jeezie petes, she’s serious, I think, as serious as a heart attack. I follow her commands, wincing a bit inwardly… what if this is something I really, really don’t want to know about, or something… “Yes, uhmis. It’s done, as you ordered.”

“Good. Now here’s the thing. Your Muhmis’ birthday is coming up, and I want to surprise her. That’s harder than Hades, knowing her, and how she hates people to make a fuss about her age. But Race Spirit, the damn woman’s 485; we should at least celebrate tenacity, if nothing else.” Tamar grins, even white teeth flashing in the pale yellow Martian sun. Her skin’s milk white; I can see everything, since she’s nude. Not that I mind, certainly…

“A birthday party?”

“Basically, but to a more Draka plan, darlin’… if you get my drift,” the drakensis smiles, licking her lips expressively, suggestively.

“Oh. Um, how can I help, uhmis?”

“Basically, by doing the following, and not breathing a hint to anyone, I mean anyone, about this. If anyone asks, I was talking with you about your reports to the Archonal Council,” Tamarindus says. “That I will, too, in a bit. But first, our plan’s like this…”

**  
“Sasha, come here. I want to talk to you for a teensy bit of time…” I gesture for her to step outside the office, onto the tree-shaded patio, and when we’re both outdoors, I hand her a note.

“What’s this, Sera Erin…” she begins, opening the folded-over piece of paper. Inside, a check is waiting, and her eyes widen. “This is blank, but you’ve signed it…”

“Yepper. You got that right… now read the note, without subvocalizing, and then eat it.”

“Eat it?”

I grin. “Yes. Eat the note, not the check, when you’ve finished reading it. There shouldn’t be any questions. Congrats on your mini-vacation, too.” Her mouth drops open. “It’s in the note… go on, read!” I pat her on the back, and step back inside, hoping that Muhmis hasn’t chosen that exact moment to eavesdrop on me through my transducer.

A stifled shriek from the patio tells me Sasha’s finished the note. She comes in, calm and composed but chewing rapidly. She nods at me fractionally, and goes to talk with her workers, telling them she’s won a mini-vacation, two days, with Falco, the son of Henry, the House steward. Claps and grins all round, and then she’s busy assigning work to her folks, making sure things get done while she’s away. I leave her at it and wander outside, down to the barns and stables.

“Hey, y’all,” I say as I push the huge red door smoothly aside on its greased rollers. A chorus of “Hey’s” meets me, and then everyone goes back to work, or whittling. About half and half, I think, looking around the cavernous interior. Glow lamps light the gloom, and I notice how clean the barn floor is. A couple of youngsters, a boy and a girl, are cleaning out a stall, a smelly, thankless job if ever there was one, I chuckle to myself, and wave. They wave back, animatedly, and then attack the smelly hay and horse debris again.

Bret’s fixing a saddle, his gnarled hands moving with an artist’s grace on the tooled leather. His work tools have the patina of long use and good care, like Papaw’s used to. They still do; I gave them to Bret one day a few years ago, and he’s kept them in great condition ever since. He insists that he’s just holding them for me, that one day I’ll want them back, but I don’t know about that.

“How’s it goin’, Erin?” He grins, past his pipe. Fragrant tobacco smoke curls from it, competing with the fresh hay smell, the leather, and the overall scent of horse and everything that goes with the critters that the barn has.

“Just fine, thank you. And you?” I climb up onto a section of stable corral next to him, hooking my feet under the wood after I get my balance. I smile at him, and the shy young woman who’s handing him his tools, or pieces of leather, as he asks for them.

“Oh, can’t complain. Fair to middlin’. No, not that piece, the smaller one. Why use a big ole honkin’ piece of leather like that, Keniesha, when you could use a smaller one?” The girl blushes and ducks her head, but hands him the correct size leather patch.

“How’s the apprenticeship comin’, Keniesha?” I grin over at her, and her smile answers me. She digs a toe into the barn floor, and doesn’t answer. Bret stops working for a moment, tamping some more tobacco into the pipe, and gives her a stern look.

“Now, what’d I tell you ‘bout answering folks when they ask you a question, girl?”

“I’m supposed to answer right off, Ser Bret.” She twists a length of leather in her pretty hands, and doesn’t look up.

“So go ahead and answer Sera Erin, silly thing. She’s asked you a question, all nice-like, and you’re actin’ like she’s an Overlord or somethin’.” He picks up a small hammer and begins tapping a brass rivet into the leather, rhythmically, smoothly.

“Um…it’s goin’ just fine, Sera Erin… I really like it… I get to work here, and go to school, and if I do real well, then I can go to a special school, down ‘round Tennessee somewheres…” The teenage girl looks at me, finally, and as usual, I’m startled slightly by her bright blue eyes, in her dark chocolate face. It makes her even prettier, I decide to myself, and smile back at her.

“Yeah, down ‘round where my grandparents were from… I think the school for the Appalachian Arts is in Crossville, still, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“I know you’ll enjoy it, if you like this. You’ll learn so much you’ll have to come back here and set up your own school, kiddo!” She looks wide-eyed at that thought, and I can see her mind working away, considering things.

“Why don’t you run on and take a break, missy?” Bret finishes hammering with a tiny flourish of blows, and leans back to look over his work. He runs a hand over the saddle, and tugs here and there. Then he produces a rag and begins oiling the leatherwork down, carefully stroking it in a little at a time. The girl bobs her head and scampers off, outside.

“So, everything ready, fellow conspirator?”

He looks up at me sharply for a moment. “What’s that?”

“I meant, is everything ready? Not that we’re being spies or anything…” I lean forward, so just he can hear me. “Got the fixin’s for the barbeque?”

“Yep. All ready. Got all the meat—you sure we gonna need that much?—it’s all stored in two freezers. The sauce is ready, too. Pork and chicken, hand-pulled, ready to go when you say the word, little missy. And you’re damn right, I ain’t no spy. Got no use for them folks.”

“Oh, this is so cool. Great! Sasha’s due back tomorrow; make sure your work hands here meet her when she lands, so we can snarf the stuff down here, for keepin’, until the party.”

“When is it, again?”

“Two days from now, on the second of May. Muhmis’ thirty-sixth birthday, or her four hundred eighty-fifth, whichever way you look at it.”

“Jesus God! 485, did you say?” His hands stop working for a moment, and then start again.

“Yeah…” I shrug. “She doesn’t look a day past thirty, to me.”

Bret sits back, looking over the saddle. “She sure is one fine-lookin’ woman, I’ll say that. They all are, y’know? Man or woman, them Draka is jest pretty.”

He looks at me, his dark brown eyes direct. “Wish all of ‘em could act as pretty as they look, though.” I nod, holding his eyes with mine.

“I know, Bret.” I glance outside, where Keniesha and the two from the stable-cleaning detail are engaging in a water fight. Shrieks and giggles follow splashes, and a few of the horses in their roomy stalls whicker at the excitement.

“Yeah,” he sighs, wiping his hands clean on another piece of cloth. “I reckon you do know, better than most of us down here. You do a lot of good up there, missy. I want you to know we know, if you can see what I mean. Not much of a man for talking, I am. But do you understand me?”

“Yes, Bret, I do. I’m trying to do the best for all of us, that I can. Thanks for telling me folks have noticed. That makes me feel good.” My hands unconsciously stroke my stomach; it’s showing a four month pregnancy now. “I try…”

“How’s that coming along?” He nods at my tummy and grins.

“Jest fine. This time, no morning sickness, thank god. And I feel good, too. Part of that’s just carrying the baby, but part of it’s just that things are going well right now. No visits from the Archon for a spell, and the Council here is purring right along…”

“I hear your boy’s trying for some kind of pilot thing?”

“Patrick’s going for flight training, end of May, when Alexandra goes to Command and Staff College, back on PrimeLine, in Archona. He’ll be able to see her a lot, and the training facilities are better there than here. Been there longer, I guess. I’ll miss him, actually, since he’s gotten over being a schmuck.”

“I’d call what he was somethin’ else entirely,” the older man says, eyes narrowing. He still hasn’t forgiven Patrick for that night he got so drunk and made a disorder out of himself, I think, and gently pat the iron-hard arm that’s closest to me.

“Aw, Bret, he’s just a kid. They’re growing up with a whole new set of stresses on them, that we didn’t have to deal with…”

“All the same, he better respect his momma more. At least ‘round me. Or we’ll have a little session back of the barn, if you get my drift.” He fiddles some more with his pipe, not wanting to meet my eyes. Suddenly, I know: this is his way of telling me how much he cares about me, and my throat tightens.

“He knows that, believe me. Between you and Alice, there wouldn’t be a shred left for a crow to squawk at, if he dissed me again the way he did. Alexandra would be mad that there wouldn’t be enough left for her to yell at…” I grin, and Bret chuckles, a deep, rumbling laugh that goes on for a good spell.

“Hey, I better be getting back to the office. Have meetings to prepare for, and all that crap. It was good talkin’ to you, Bret. I’ll let you know ASAP when Sasha gets in, ‘kay?”

“Yep. Be waitin’. And don’t be a stranger, hear? You get away from them meetings, you just come on down here an’ set a spell with us!” He gives me a quick squeeze on one shoulder, and I climb carefully down off the fence, and head back toward the House.

**  
“Okay, okay, everybody, come on, we need some ideas here,” I call out, and the chattering across the long, desert ironwood table comes to a stop. Tom, Alice, Jennifer, Shawonda, Diane… they all stop talking and look at me expectantly.

“We need to work on Project 4. You know?” A round of nods and grins meet me. “Okay. We need ideas, folks. This is going to be a big thing, but a private one. No news coverage, right, Diane?”

“Right. I’ve already prepared a few little blibbets to feed the networks, and I’ve got security checking out all the guests, the human ones, that is, to make sure we don’t have any snoopers. I’ve got that under control.”

“Great. Now, the food situation is also under control; I’ve got Sasha, Falco and Henry working on that, and Bret and his boys are providing storage as well as snooper patrol.” I grin. “It’s not just the press we have to worry about, it’s all the farm hands blabbing their wild tales of stuff in the barns…”

Tom speaks up when the laughter’s died down. “Is Schalk in on it, Erin?”

“Yeah, or we wouldn’t be having the meeting in his suite.” Tom frowns a little—he’s been a bit grouchy for some reason, but I don’t know why—have to find out, though; I smile. “No, really, it’s okay. He’s in on it. So far, the only one who doesn’t know is Gwen herself. And that’s how I want to keep it. How’s the music coming?”

Jennifer looks over her hand-scribbled notes. “We’ve got the New York Philharmonic scheduled, and we’re housing them in the new horse stables…”

The whole group cracks up, and she waves a hand for quiet, blushing. “Yeah, yeah… I know. But it’s brand new, never been used, and there’s enough room for them all, and practice areas…”

“Take them flautists out for a trot, Billy-bob!” chortles Alice, and everyone loses it again. Jennifer blushes furiously, and grins.

“Okay, that’s the classical end of things” I fake a yawn, “but how about fun music?”

A dramatic sigh, and the Noo Yawk accent comes on strong. “Corn-pone… you want me to get Tanya Tucker or someone?”

“I’m surprised you knew even her name. Some of my good taste must be rubbing off on you, Jenny,” I say, winking.

“With all the rubbing you were doing last night, something should have,” Alice quips. Man, she’s just full of vim and vigor today, I think, my face turning as red as Jennifer’s. Must have had too much fun last night with us…

“Okay, okay… Alice, please. We only have a few minutes… Jenny, any bands that can play music written after 1700?”

“I’ve got the kids’ favorites, the Rotting Persimmons and some other of that ilk. I figure we can put them way, way, down at the other end of the party arena, and maybe we won’t be totally deafened. They are rather… uncouth.” Murmurs of agreement go around the table; we’re turning into old coots, I think to myself, they’re not that bad!

“How about some of the folks I wrote down for you?” 

“Well, I haven’t heard back yet from Kate Bush, but I think she’s a pretty probable yes, given the prestige and what-not for performing for the Planetary Archon. Sting has said he’ll come out of retirement, and do a set or two, and Mary Chapin Carpenter said yes.”

“All right!!” I clap my hands. “This will be cool. I’m amazed Sting said yes. He’s over 70 now.”

“Well, with all the new healthcare programs, people are surprisingly frisky at 70,” Shawonda says drily. “Any one playing that I’ve heard of?”

“I’ve got the South African Choir scheduled, too… they’re still debating, though, so I’m not sure. I hope they can make it. I wanted Barbra, but she’s way too infirm now. So’s Bette. So they’re out, Draka medicine or no.”

“Too bad the Rolling Stones aren’t all still alive,” Tom says, grinning.

“Or that all the Beatles are finally gone…” I agree.

“Hell, I’d like to hear some Lena Horne, myself,” says Shawonda. “Or Queen Latifah. Hey, have you tried her yet? She’s still singing…”

“Hey, let’s get Tina Turner—her legs are still fantastic!” Alice chimes in.

“I’d like LeeAnn Rimes, myself…”I say, winking at her.

“I bet you would, you vixen…” my wife fires back, winking back.

“So, do you want me to look up these people and try to schedule them? Oy, vey, gevalt, I’m a poor little financial analyst, not a professional booking agent…” Jennifer moans, holding her head. We all laugh, mostly gently… but it’s kinda fun to make Jenny lose it sometimes, I think to myself. Like last night.

“I’ll help out, Jenny. I’ve got some contacts,” Diane says, reaching over and patting Jennifer on the back. “It’s okay…”

“How about if you look up the folks we mentioned, the live ones, that is, and see what they say?” I ask, and look down at my notes again. “Then we can move from there. But we’ve got some music, so we’re okay either way. Right?”

“I’d like to get the Rockettes here.” Tom’s grin is wide but his voice is serious.

“The Rockettes? Okay… that’s unusual, but what the heck, right? I’ll get them!” Jennifer scribbles more notes to herself and groans again, theatrically. “Anyone else?”

“How about…” I start, and then duck as she tosses a balled-up piece of paper at me. “Hmm… natives getting restless, better get back to the fort, Bougwan!”

“I’ve got the pavilions all set to be put up, for sleeping and what-not,” says Shawonda. “I had to repaint some of the canvas ones, since they used to be Marine Corps property, and I didn’t think camo was the happiest birthday pattern…”

“Great. Thanks, that’s a major job done. I hope folks don’t mind sleeping, or whatever, outside… not that they did last time, though. Alice, how about the Citizens coming in? How many, and how many servus, etc…”

Alice cracks her knuckles and sits back in the chair. “We’ve got forty Citizens, and about twice that number for servus and human servants. A few of those kawtuhs, too. I’m a little worried about them; what if they go cattywonkers on us? Maybe country music makes them go crazy or something?” The room of friends laughs again, and she goes on:

“I got uhmis Tamarindus to talk all the other Citizens into limiting themselves to two servants a piece, a considerable bonus for us, and easier to handle bedding and food. But that means we’ll have some tired little pups around here, after the party…” I decide to pointedly ignore the crack about country music. I don’t begrudge Alice her Midnight Oil music tapes, I think, as long as she doesn’t play them all day long in our office…

“Like after the Naming Ceremony, right?” I roll my eyes, and watch Diane, especially, blush deeply. “Barely got any work out of anyone for a week after that, didn’t we?”

“Lots of boo-boos at the clinic, too,” laughs Shawonda. “Like people not caring where they were being ridden, and getting splinters in certain areas…”

“Hey!” Diane turns crimson, and then laughs harder than the rest of us. “I didn’t care, at the moment, to be honest…”

“To be horny, you mean…” cracks Alice.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t see you slowing down much, missy…”

“We all did pretty well those nights. Let’s try to be careful where we get plunked down this time, though, and avoid splinters. Or grass stains. Or carpet burns. Okay?” I try to get us to stay on task, but it’s a losing battle. Maybe we’re all a little nervous, and excited, I muse silently. I look over my notes again, and then up at the doctor across from me. “Shawonda, have you talked to the youngsters down in the village about this yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re all fired up and ready to party. The ones that were more nervous, I had assigned to back-room stuff, so they shouldn’t be pounced upon so quickly, if at all. There’re quite a few anxious and willing-to-please volunteers, from our village as well as the surrounding ones. I’ve given the standard lecture on my rounds, and everyone’s as ready as they can be. I don’t see any problems that way.”

“Good! Hey, it sounds like it might all come together then. Man. What a job. I am so thankful, guys, really. You’ve all helped out so much, you made it work! Thanks, and I mean it.” I fold my notes up and stick them in my pocket. “Party’s on in twenty-four hours. Set your watches! But now it’s time to get on with real business… Jennifer, I guess that means you get to drag my poor brain through world finance again, for an hour…”

The group breaks up, everyone busy but happy. Tom’s still got a little cloud over his head, figuratively speaking, and I wonder about it. He’s usually quite the straightforward kind of guy, telling you what he thinks or if he’s mad at you. I make a mental note to ask him for a few minutes, and then Jennifer’s got me by the arm, walking me down the hall to her office and the waiting global financial news lecture…

**  
“Oh, man, am I tired,” I sigh out loud as I sink onto the couch. The gene-engineered cat we’ve got, Lucy, looks regal as she watches me from her perch on the mantle. 

“Snack?” She asks, her voice high and raspy. Her orange, fluffy tail quirks into a hopeful question mark.

“You always want a snack, Lucy… if I gave you one every time you asked, you’d be as big as the Titanic,” I protest. Somehow, though, I make my way to the kitchen and the cooling unit. 

Lucy prances behind me, saying “Yum yum yum yum!” I grin and toss her some of the salmon snacks she loves so; they disappear rapidly.

I fix myself a glass of milk and grab some cookies, and head back toward the living room. I really should be getting to bed, I remind myself, but I’m hungry, and wired. God, only eight hours now until the birthday party. Somehow, we’ve managed to keep it a secret from the person for whom it’s being thrown. Gwen’s been busy negotiating and planning with the other Planetary Archons and others, and hasn’t been really “here” for the past couple of days. Of course, physically, she’s been here, but mentally, via transducer, she’s been on PrimeLine, in Archona, and elsewhere.

Lucy curls up, a red and orange ball in my lap, purring contentedly. Alice’s out; I think she’s partying with Diane. She has more energy that way than I do, that’s for sure, I think, leaning back into the couch. My wife… The pregnancy, Gwen and Schalk’s son, is showing; been four months and two weeks now. My breasts are changing, as they have before. I just hope they don’t end up dragging the floor, I grin, cupping them and looking down. More than a handful, just. Not bad for an old coot of 38. Lucy stirs, and murmurs, “Still!”

“Yeah, yeah, bossy old cat. Hush,” I laugh, stroking her thick fur. I scratch around her ears, and then on top of her head, and she turns limp. I know the feeling; maybe I was a cat in a former lifetime. I love to have someone run their hand through my hair, or rub my head. I wish I had someone doing that right now, I muse somewhat mournfully. I like to sit at the foot of Gwen’s chair in her study, letting her run her long fingers through my hair as she reads or works, or as we talk. Many evenings start out that way, I grin. Not many stay right there.

There’s a muted chime as someone queries the door. I jump, a little, and wonder if Alice has forgotten something… no, then she’d just come in; the door would recognize her automatically. I wonder who it is? I gently put the sleepy Lucy on the couch, where I was sitting, and go to the door. “Who is it?”

“Tom, Erin. May I come in, or is it too late? I hope I didn’t wake you…”

I command the door to open, and it shushes into the wall. Tom’s standing there, hair disheveled, eyes red. My god, mister fashion plate doesn’t look quite himself, I think, and take his hand in mine. “No, I was just having some quiet time with Lucy Cat, and some milk and cookies. Come on in and set a spell, honey.”

I lead him into the living room, and go over to the wall to turn the lights up a bit. He shakes his head: “Please, don’t. I know I look hideous as it is—with brighter light, I’ll look worse.”

“Okay,” I say. “Want a drink, Tom?”

“Yeah, that would be good. Maybe vodka and orange juice?”

“Sure, old boy. Have a seat, why don’t you. Never mind Lucy; she’s a harmless ball of fluff unless you sit on her tail.” I watch Tom sink into the couch next to the sleepy cat, and fix him a stiff drink. Looks like he needs it, I think to myself. In vino veritas, perhaps?

“Thanks, Erin.” He sips at the drink, then looks down at it, then at me. “Whew! A man’d think you were trying to get him drunk or something!”

“Just a little. Too strong? I’m not usually the barkeep.” I grin at him, sitting down on the couch facing him, my feet curled up under me Indian-style.

“No… it’s okay. I’m sorry to bug you so late…”

“Honey, let’s just talk. Cut the preliminaries. I’m tired, you’re tired, and you’re upset. Talk to me, please. I’m worried about you, Tom.”

“I haven’t been wandering around talking to myself or the walls or anything…” He shifts uncomfortably, sipping again at the drink.

I take a gulp of milk and lick my lips. “Want a cookie? No, I guess they wouldn’t go too well with vodka and orange juice. No, you’ve been acting upset, and you look upset. Please, tell me what’s wrong, darlin’…” I let my hand fall from the back of the couch to his broad shoulders, stroking gently.

He leans against my hand, partly unconsciously. “It’s just… it’s dumb. Stupid. I should just slap myself and get over it.”

“This all seemed to start when the planning began for the negotiations with the Samos,” I say neutrally.

“Yes.” He looks down into his glass for a moment, then takes a deep breath. His blue eyes meet mine, and he sighs. “Yeah…”

“Okay…”

“Okay… here it is. I’ve been having some really bad dreams, and trouble sleeping, and I don’t know anyone besides you I really trust enough to talk about it. I wish we could use De Lange’s room again, Erin. You and I.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid…” his voice cracks; swallowing roughly, he continues: “I’m afraid, and some of what I have to say may not be very politically… safe. I guess.”

“Hell, Tom, you’re scaring me!”

His shoulders tense, and he sits up. “You’re right. I can’t put you in this position. I’ll be fine, really. Thanks for the drink and the reality check, Erin.” He starts to stand up and I shove him back onto the couch with both hands.

“Now listen, mister. Don’t mess with me. I’m pregnant, and I’m liable to just rip your head off and piss down your neck if you mess with me. Got it?” My voice cuts like a whip; an old technique I picked up from my first company commander, Petty Officer Harlin, years ago. The Navy’s version of drill instructor was hell on wheels, I remember. Tom’s jaw sags open a little and he sinks back against the cushions. 

Lucy, her tail bottled, has disappeared into the bedroom, hissing, “mean mean hiss phthphthpttt.” I’ll have to make up to her later, I think with a rueful internal smile. Thank all the gods for salmon treats.

I look back at Tom. “You listen, hear? I’m your friend. We’ve been through hell together; we’ve both lost the same person who made a tremendous difference in our lives. That’s a bond. I’m here to listen to you, and yeah, to give you a reality check. This is it. Wake up and smell the coffee, Tom. You’re upset about something, it’s showing… you don’t think you’ve hidden it from De Lange, do you? Really?”

“No.”

“Okay. So tell me what’s up. No matter how dangerous you think it is. We’re Gwen’s saafn, and high-ranking ones at that, so we do have some leeway. Tell me what it is, and maybe, if we put our heads together, we can figure things out. That’s what friends are for.”

“It’s…” He takes a gulp of the drink, and closes his eyes. “You’re absolutely right. It all started when the negotiation planning did. It must have triggered something. I don’t know, I’m no shrink. But the dreams are hideous, awful—I don’t even want to describe them. But they’re all the same. People stoning me, torturing me, calling me…”

“What?” Inside, I know.

“A traitor. Traitor to the human race.” His hands shake. “I’m not! If we hadn’t gotten the Draka, we’d have nuked ourselves to death, or poisoned ourselves… we’re better off now, and so’s the world. But did I sacrifice my people for my planet? Does that make me a traitor, Erin?”

“I’ve been called that, too. All of us personal saafn of the Planetary Archon have been, at one point or another. People either idolize us like rock stars or demonize us like cousins of the antichrist. We’re neither, Tom. We’re just people caught up in something bigger than ourselves, trying to survive.”

“But the Samos… didn’t you see their faces when they saw us, that time we all met on Titan, a couple of months ago, for the opening of the negotiation planning sessions? They literally want to tear us to pieces, Erin. They hate us so much,” Tom whispers.

“They’re coming from a completely different viewpoint. They have to hate us. It justifies their forebearers running off and leaving everyone else in the U.S. to the victorious Draka army. In their time line, not ours, though. But how do you think that would make you feel? You’d have so much guilt, and guilt turns to rage. Rage is more easily directed at us now, Tom, since we’re less powerful than the Overlords. I don’t care what the Samos think about us, I really don’t.”

“Not at all?”

“Hell, Tom, in some respects, they’re as inhuman now as the Draka. Think about it. They went the technology route, becoming cyberpeople. They’re all enhanced that way. Half machine, half human. We’re all human, except for this,” I tap behind my right ear. “The Draka went the other road, biology. They’re not human anymore, and neither are the Samos. So that leaves us. Period. And we have a responsibility, Tom, for the human race. We’ve got to be stewards.”

“Stewards? Sounds like we’ll be handing out peanuts and magazines…” He grins, weakly. Tears stand in his eyes, though.

“No, you know what I mean. Listen… you’re feeling guilty, and torturing yourself with these damn dreams. I know, I’ve been there. I did that for years, after the Nimitz. Part of me wanted to die there, with all my friends. Peter and I survived, though. And you will, too. You have to fight the dreams; it’s just part of your mind that’s rebelling, I guess. I read somewhere that we all have a private insanity, one we don’t ever show to others… maybe the dreams are it.”

“Yeah, maybe…”

“Tom, it’s just that… you helped with the Project, and so did I, but it would have happened without us, you know? We’re not the people who enslaved the human race. The Draka are.”

Tom’s eyes widen, and flick from side to side in an unconscious defense mechanism. I go on, firmly:

“It’s true. You know it, I know it, the Draka know it. We can do something, though, Tom, that not many people can. We can help modify, or mediate, the process. That’s what we’ve been doing for the past fifteen years. The Draka children raised by us are different than their parents. They see us differently. That’s a huge change, given how slowly the Draka culture changes. If at all. So that’s important. So’s the fact that we helped keep the Earth from being biobombed and what-not. That was an option, you know. Get rid of all the pesky humans, especially if they get rebellious.”

“I know.”

“Well then, how can you hate yourself for saving lives? For surviving yourself? To stay sane, you have to work this out. I know you started out with a dream, a renewed Earth. That’s been your focus for most of the time. Mine was more narrow, maybe more self-centered, or selfish. I wanted to survive. Once I figured out I could, then my focus turned to my own dream. We’ve just come at this from different ways, Tom, but we’re at the same place now.”

“What’s your dream?”

I smile. “To be free, one day. To see the human race spread throughout the Universe, exploring, learning, growing. To see our children reach for the stars and not get burned by them. The freedom thing may take a long, long time, but one day I think it’ll happen. Maybe we won’t see it, or we’ll be hundreds of years old, but it’ll come. That’s what I think about. Right now, it’s enough to see that Gwen and some of the other Draka are realizing just how important humans can be to the Race. We need them to get to the stars, Tom, and they need us to survive, to adapt.”

“Yeah, maybe…”

“It’s our creativity, our curiosity… they need that. They genengineered that out, by mistake. They may try to engineer it back in, but I don’t know. It’s easier, maybe, hopefully, to keep us around.”

“You and Gwen have been having some long talks, and vacations alone. We all made jokes about that, when you went off to the mountains with her. Some folks said you were just going to fry her brain on moonshine, and then take advantage of her…” He grins, widely now. The old sparkle’s coming back into his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, we did that. I tied her up with some chains, after some of mah kin folk give her some a’ that there corn likker, and then, let me tell ya… that girl shore can yell…” I laugh. I run my hand through his hair affectionately. “As if.”

“Can you imagine Gwen as a bottom?”

“Shit, no…” We both crack up. “Not even when she’s with another Draka.”

“Really?”

I blush a little. “Yeah, really. Even with Tamarindus or Schalk… she’s in charge. Period. It’s natural for her. I certainly don’t mind, unless she gets in a tickly mood. Then she drives me up the wall.”

“Oh, tell me about it, girl. Those very precise fingers of hers…” Tom rolls his eyes and shivers a bit. “Hey, Erin…”

“Hmmm?”

“Thanks,” he says, quietly. “What you said… I’ll have to think about it some more, but I can see your point. We have to go on. And the Samos… they’re a whole ‘nother bag of apples, you know?”

“Granny Smith bitter ones!” I make a face, mugging it up. We both laugh again, and then he hugs me, strong and gentle. The scent of his after shave, the same Peter used to use, whiffs by me, and I wrap my arms around him and hug back with all my strength. “Thanks, Tom, for trusting me enough to talk about all this craziness. I need to do that, too. Sometimes just talking to yourself isn’t enough.”

“Feel like sleeping alone tonight, oh Ferocious Pregnant Woman?”

“Um…” I blush and loosen my grip a little. “Well…”

“No, no, silly girl. I mean sleep! Really sleeping. I’m too damn tired for anything else, which I think you were wondering about, right?”

“Yeah… well, okay! If it’s sleep and snuggling you want, let’s go!” I kiss him on the forehead and he grins up at me.

“Which side do you like?”

“The one you won’t push me out of…” I joke, remembering a night, years ago, when Gwen had taken the two of us. She had gotten up after her four hours’ worth of sleep, but he and I had snored on. I ended up waking up as I tumbled out of the bed. Tom, in his sleep, had kept rolling over into me, and scooting me closer and closer to the edge…

He ducks his head and blushes. “I apologized for that, a long time ago!”

“Remember how Gwen laughed? It was kinda funny, even to me. Come on, let’s hit the sack. You pick the side you want, but be forewarned: I’ll defend my pillow with my life.” I take his hands in mine and lead him into the bedroom, turning down the lights in the house as we pass their controls. His lean, muscular body isn’t the one I’m used to sleeping next to, but he’s warm, and gentle, and a friend indeed. 

The night passes into morning, and the alarm reminds me… the first aircars will be arriving in an hour! The party’s almost here! I scramble out of bed, and roust Tom out as well. “Come on, come on. We’ve only got a few minutes to make sure everything and everyone’s ready…”

“Time for a hug, though.” He catches me as I’m jumping into my semiformal black tunic with the gold and blue piping, and hugs me for a long, long moment. “I needed a good night’s rest, Erin. Thanks for being there for me.”

I grin up at his tanned face. “Yeah, yeah… no, seriously, I needed that too. Thanks right back at you. Now can I finish getting dressed?”

“Okay…” He grins and starts pulling on his clothes from last night. “I guess I better go freshen up, myself.”

“Fine. See you downstairs, right?”

“Yeah! In a few minutes. Thanks, honey.” A peck on the cheek, and he’s gone. Lucy looks at me with bleary eyes.

“Treat?”


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12

“… happy birrrrthday to youuuuuu…”

That’s the fifth time I’ve heard it tonight, I think, smiling despite myself.

The lawns and fields to the rear of my manor look like a… yes, a travelling circus, I think, pulling an image from some of the old films that Erin likes. Lanterns on poles, and colorfully striped canvas pavilions, and whole pigs and oxen roasting over fires. The sounds of music touch the air like scents; somewhere a mandolin is being plaid, something old and plaintive and sweet. I look down at the bridle Bret has given me and smile; the leather is dark-shining and supple, worked with rosettes… beautiful and pure utility at the same time.

“Wonderful,” I say sincerely, testing the tight-sewn flexible strength of it once more, and pass it back to Mahwel, my new kawtuh – he’s Tamar’s gift, and a sleek black-furred golden-eyed beauty. Qualified as a pilot and bodyguard, and literally bushy-tailed with excitement, right now. “It’s always a pleasure to see really good work.”

He ducks his head and vanishes into the crowd below the terrace; mostly humans down there. There are a dozen or so Draka here behind the building with me, and all of them seem to be enjoying themselves. The Rockettes were quite impressive.

I walk down the steps myself, nodding right and left as more congratulations go by me; Mahwel gets more looks that I do. I sample a rack of pork ribs rich with some tangy sauce, crunching the bones for the texture and sweet marrow; Mahwel joins me. A little further along are two big hundred-gallon oak casks of Gwendolyn Hall’s wine, the new vintage – not subtle yet, but fruity and rich, with a slightly buttery tang like a Merlot. A smaller keg holds bourbon, a local brand – Maker’s Mark, very smooth. I toss back a glass and then sip another; my kawtuh is lapping his, purring with pleasure.

“Better than brandy, muhmis!” he says.

“As good,” I say, stroking his back. It arches under my hand, the fur soft and velvet-dark.

“Another,” I say to the attendant at the barrel. She draws it, the firelight ruddy on her bronze-brown hair.

“You’re… Jenny McQueen,” I say. Just turned sixteen, I remember, which is why she’s here and not back in the village. A… what do they call it? Cheerleader, that’s it. I bend and hoist, and she’s sitting in the crook of my arm.

“Eeek!” she says, halfway between fright and delight. She subvocalizes: muhmis herself oh my oh lord the big furry cat-thing will he…

“I’m a kawtuh,” Mahwel says, mock-reproving. “And yes I will, all sorts of ways, pretty little human wench. Nobody’s complained yet, overlord or servus or kawtuhs or your kind either.”

The new stables are dark and mostly quiet; there’s a rustling from one of the other loose-boxes though… Yes, Gunnar and Dianne and one of the Rockettes, I think. Not to mention Alexa, Patrick and yet another Rockette in another… well, they are dancers, I think indulgently.

Jenny is a little nervous as she undresses; more than a little at Mahwel’s rampant interest when he unbuckles his short kilt. “You wait a little,” I say to the transgene; he gives a whimper of frustration and sinks down gracefully on the blanket-covered straw, tongue dangling as he pants and watches bright-eyed.

“Don’t worry,” I go on to the human as I set her down, skinning her tunic over her head. “By the time you feel fur on skin, you’ll want to.” I kiss her long and hard, then grin at her flushed face, clear to me in the dimness, and at the scent of her response. My hands rove, stripping and caressing her, and she gasps; I bear her to the blankets, hands and lips busy. “The night is young and it’s a surprise party.”

An hour and a half later I rise, stretching and reaching for my robe. Jenny-the-cheerleader is still occupied with Mahwel, in a grappling, heaving tangle of white and pink and black fur-clad suppleness. I hear her squeal and his throbbing growl as the fabric falls around my head. When I shrug it into place she’s lying back sighing, and he crouches over her and playfully licks her face.

“Enough,” I say, chuckling. 

**

“Well, how’d it go?” asks Ariadne, tugging at my sleeve.

“How’d what go?” I look into her eyes, level with my own, even though she’s half my age.

“Oh, you know… springing the surprise on Ma!” She laughs delightedly. “Her face must’ve been priceless to see. Sorry I missed it!”

“Well, if you and a certain someone,” I nod at my daughter, May, standing behind the young Draka, “hadn’t been riding hell for leather over hill and dale, at such an early hour…”

“Aw, Ma…” they say in unison.

“Okay, okay…” I hold up my hands, first wiping them on a linen napkin. “It was kinda funny. We met her for breakfast, as usual, and Alice said something about ‘Isn’t it your birthday, Muhmis?’. She just grinned a little and nodded, and we all went on eating. Then,” I continue after a sip of wine, “then… things started happening.”

“What?” Both girls sit down, one on either side of me.

“Well, Muhmis asked me what was on my schedule for the day, if I wanted to go riding with her,” I start. 

Ariadne cuts me off. “Oh, yeah… heard that one before!”

“No, no… really, on a horse, and everything. I’ve been taking all those damn riding lessons for…”

We all start laughing then, my face turning beet red. Jennifer walks over, champagne glass in hand. “Into the funny juice all ready? Girls, girls…”

That sets off a new gale of hilarity, until the three of us sitting down are wiping tears away. Jennifer looks rather peeved, so I reach back and grab her hand as she starts to walk away. “Hey, don’t go, Jenny, we’re just goofing. I was telling the kids here how this morning went…”

“Oh, yeah? I was wondering, myself. I had to schedule that gorky vidconference with Greenspan and his group. The world currency… ach, what a headache. So, tell.”

“Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah…she wanted to know if I wanted to go on a horse ride with her. I said I thought I might have something on my schedule. Then uhmas De Lange almost ruined everything by snorting into his orange juice. Gwen’s eyes got big, and she just stared at him, then me…”

The women laugh, imagining what Muhmis must have thought was going on between her head of security and her Prime Counselor saafn. I nibble on some more corn bread—can’t drink like I usually would, with the baby and all—and wait for relative calm. “Then…”

“Yeah?”

“Then she just winked at me, really slowly, and said, ‘Well, don’t get too extreme, dears,’ and got up from the table. Just then, the first aircars started coming in, and she saw the tents being set up. Her mouth sort of dropped open for a minute, especially when Tamarindus buzzed the patio, and about knocked all of us and breakfast too, off into the bushes…”

The wind from the passing aircar had buffeted us around, and we all tried to hang on to whatever we could; I clearly remember seeing Shawonda holding on to the bread basket for dear life. My hair got whipped all over the place, and Diane was squeaking about hers, holding both hands to her head. Not that that helped much. Gwen just stood there, looking down onto the grounds, and occasionally up into the air, identifying aircars as they came in for landing.

“Muhmis walked over to me, and picked me up out of my chair, holding me up to meet her eyes. I was a little worried, then, because she wasn’t smiling. Well, to be honest, I was scared half-senseless. Then I looked into her eyes, and saw that she was amused. I don’t know how I knew… she asked me who was behind all this mess. All I could do was grin like a possum. Then she swatted my behind, and kissed me. Tamarindus was coming up onto the walkway by then, and she yelled out something like, ‘Wait, let me help interrogate the wench!’ Muhmis put me down, swatting me lightly again, and put her arm around me and then around Tamarindus.”

“So she didn’t like, sneep out or anything?” Ariadne says, somewhat disappointedly.

“No, if sneeping means losing it, or freaking out. The closest she came was her mouth dropping open about an inch. That’s all.”

“For Muhmis, that’s like one of us falling on the floor in a fit,” laughs Jennifer. “Wish I had seen it!”

“So did they, um, well, interrogate you?” Ariadne says. May gives her a kick under the table.

“Ari!!”

“No,” I chuckle, “but Muhmis Gwen did promise I’d have an interesting evening later on…”

“Ma!!” May yells, crimson. I shrug, miming innocence, and tousle her hair. “Mama! My hair! Quit!”

“Ach, kids, these days…” I say to Jennifer, who’s smiling at us from her perch on the edge of the table. She rolls her eyes expressively and nods.

“Not a thing like we were, huh?”

**  
I munch an Altoids as I walk back to the house; of all the pregnancies I’ve had, this is the first one where I really crave something, and the British mints are just the thing. Besides having to find a bathroom every fifteen minutes, it seems like, this pregnancy’s not so bad. No more morning sickness; didn’t even get sick once, I grin to myself. The worst part about that part of carrying a baby is that you never have any warning. I’ve had to dash out of meetings, duck behind bushes, even stuck my head in a bucket once down here, when I was carrying Ariadne.

The party’s getting a little wild, even for Draka standards. No bloodshed or anything like that, but lots of, well, energetic friskiness. More and different combinations that I’ve ever seen… I watch four going at it near the kitchen pavilion; two Draka, two humans, everyone all hot and bothered. The pheromones in the air are affecting me somewhat, as well as the visual and auditory stimuli, I say analytically to myself, and blushing, go inside the House.

There’s more quiet here; not as many party-goers inside as out. For some reason, the Draka seem to prefer things, well, al fresco, I think, as I walk up the broad marble steps. They sweep down into the entrance way from the second floor. It makes a damn impressive sight to see folks coming down this thing, I muse, running my hands along the cool stone of the handrail, when they’re all gussied up. Last Christmas was a good example of that. I never saw Alice look more beautiful than she did when she slowly came down these stairs, hair in an extravagant pile on her head, long black gown draped over her shoulders. It highlighted the pearly silkiness of her complexion, and even Gwen took a second look. After that look, I knew that unless Gwen took us both that night, I wouldn’t be hearing Ally snore…

Inside, too, the scents of the evening are muted. The tangy, smoky smell of the barbeque is not very strong at all, nor is the wood smoke. The bouquet of magnolias in a huge glass vase at the head of the stairs lets out its own perfume, and it takes me back, as it always does, to moonlight, Spanish moss, and Savannah. I close my eyes for a moment, inhaling, and remembering. Funny how such strong memories get associated with smell, I think. This one’s always tinged with nostalgia, a haunting feeling like nothing else I’ve ever felt.

I walk on past the flowers, down the paneled hallway, going down one wing of the huge House until I reach Ally’s and my quarters. It’s a spacious wing, off the main corridor, and away enough from the bustle and hustle of the main House to be private. The door recognizes me and I walk through into the living room. It’s tastefully decorated, if I may say so myself, I think, pausing a moment to look around. Patrick’s been here, I know, since there’s a box of taco chips on the coffee table. His current snack favorite. To me, they taste like cardboard with some paprika on them. I pick up the box and take it into the kitchen, putting it on the round oak table in the center of the room.

I can catch a whiff of Alice’s perfume; she must have doused herself liberally before the party. I didn’t have a chance to talk with her before the party itself began, but we managed to dress in fairly complementary colors by chance. I brush a few remaining crumbs off my dark blue silk blouse and smile. She’s such a shopper, I think, as I look into her room. Bags and boxes from the latest jaunt, this one to London, are still scattered all over the place, like a room after a Christmas morning. 

Walking further back through the apartment, I reach my room; I sit down at the computer desk and tell it to come fully online. The holographic screen is projected in front of me, and the computer greets me with Tina Turner’s sexy voice. “Hello, Erin! How may I help you tonight?”

“Recall the file ‘Carpenter’, bring it up on screen, and then print it for me. Thanks, Tina. Any messages?”

“I’m recalling the file and printing it as you asked. Yes, you have a personal message from Alice. Would you like to read it, or have me read it to you?”

“Read it to me, why don’t you?”

“ ‘Erin, this is your lover, Ally—as if you didn’t know—I’ll probably be spending tonight with Jennifer, unless Gwen or Schalk have different plans. Any probs with that? You’re more than welcome to come along, too, love… just let us know. We’ll probably be over at her place, later tonight. Give me a call. I sure do love you, Erin.’ That’s the end of the message, Erin. No others currently.”

“Thanks, Tina.”

“You’re welcome!”

There’s a soft hiss as the paper emerges from the printer, and I critically look over the calligraphy font, looking for any errors. Not finding any, I roll it up into a tube, and hunt around for a ribbon. I find some in Alice’s room, and snitch one. She’ll never miss it, I think smugly to myself. Not with all her mess laying around… I go back into my room, and tell “Tina” goodnight. The computer wishes me a nice evening, and then goes back to standby mode, the screen vanishing in a blink of white light. The room’s lights come up so I can see, but not too brightly. There’s a small package on my desk, wrapped in a ribbon of black silk; I heft it, admiring the job Ally did on wrapping it. I’ve always been such a klutz when it comes to wrapping things up, I think, thank God Alice’s better…

The ribbon-tied tube and the package go in one hand; I wave the lights down with the other and leave the room in darkness. Navigating my way through the home, I tell the rooms goodnight. It always feels funny to talk out loud to a room, but the embedded compinsets regulate light and temperature that way. It’s quite economical as well as convenient. I’m getting used to it, but slowly, even though it’s been a few years since almost all the houses on the planet have been built for the programs.

So much has changed, I think, as I walk back down the echoing, cool corridor, my boot heels making a scuffy sort of tapping noise along the inlaid wooden floors. Houses, education, health benefits… a few years ago, you would have been crazy to think that everyone on the planet could have those basic benefits, or life amenities, but now, after the Draka, we’ve pretty much made it global. There may be a few places which haven’t finished modernizing, but on the whole, the entire planet now is healthier.

The Alfen-wave drives and the emphasis the Draka have on conservation and ecology have made a huge difference in global pollution and now, fifteen years after the Arrival, petrochemicals are being phased out, slowly but surely. More and more cars are being replaced by mass-transit floaters, and houses are built to be intelligent, or they’re not built at all. The education system received a massive boost from the national defense funds, and the health benefits have been one of the saving graces of the Draka Arrival, for most people, I muse, as I walk down the broad marble steps in the front of the house.

I wish Mamaw and Papaw had lived to see the health benefits, especially. I miss them more and more, I realize, the older I grow. I don’t know what they’d have thought of the Arrival, but they would have enjoyed better health. Their last few years were painful ones. I wish I had been there when they were both so ill, but instead of being there, I was off on the wide blue sea, playing sailor. I sigh, remembering how gentle the big chief petty officer had been when he told me they had died within hours of each other, and how he had arranged leave for me. Chief Wannamaker, that’s who it was. He was a big Cherokee Indian from Oklahoma, I remember. Died when the Nimitz went down, like so many other good people…

The party’s going full steam ahead; I hear laughter and the whistle-pop-bang of fireworks. Children are running around, playing some sort of tag game, and their giggles seem to hang in the air like the multicolored lights from the rockets. There’s the occasional thrashing in the bushes to walk by, and sometimes couples walking hand in hand. I pass by Alexandra’s centaur, and he bows a greeting to me, and hoists two young boys to his back, grinning and trotting off, careful not to drop them. Their parents wave and clap, and I watch for a few moments, enjoying the sight.

“Say, where’ve you been, girl?” Tom says, an arm sliding around my waist.

“Oh, here and there… enjoying yourself?” I grin up into his face. He nods, blue eyes sparkling, and raises a wine glass. Torchlight shines through the blood-red wine, and he returns my grin.

“Oh, yes… muchly… Andri and I have been having a great deal of fun. How about you? Have you seen Alice?”

“No, not since dinner. I’ve been having a good time, though not as much as I usually would be, due to this” I nod downwards, at the bulge in my tummy, where Gwen and Schalk’s son waits and grows, “but it’s been festive. What’s our favorite Aussie up to?”

“Oh, she did a great rendition of Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Happy Birthday, Dear Archon’… you missed it. I think Diane’s boys and girls got it on vidcam, though, so you can see it later. Gwen actually turned a bit red near the end, and the cheers were pretty big.”

“That girl!” I laugh, and hug him. I’m glad to see he’s chased away some of the demons that were haunting him, I think. We all have them; it’s a sign of the times, and something we each find different ways to cope with. “Seen Gwen around any time recently?”

Tom looks down at the two objects in my hand, the package and the tube of parchment paper tied with ribbon, and smiles. “No, the last time I saw her before Andri and I got… well, busy… was, let’s see… oh, yeah, she was going down to the stables with a wench in one arm and her new kawtuh in the other. He’s quite the pretty, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s actually handsome, for a big cat-raccoon-humanoid furry guy.” I wink at Tom. “But I’m sure you’d like to get to know him better, wouldn’t you?”

“Since you asked… yes, I would. But I think that’ll be sort of integrated into the routine, if you know what I mean. He’s not bad at all. Ducky, as Alice would say.”

“Hey, listen, I wanted to give these little doodads to Gwen, so I’m heading down to the stables. Maybe the wild wenching is about done… although given Draka stamina, it may not be…” I giggle, and Tom winks back. 

“You wouldn’t mind joining in…”

“Well… I’ll have to get used to the kawtuh, first, before I really enjoyed it. It’s different enough with a regular furry old guy,” I chuckle, patting his fanny lightly. “But I’m sure I can adapt. I’m actually a little tired tonight, though; my back’s aching again. I thought I’d just track Gwen down and give these to her, and then beat a hasty retreat…”

“You heard what she said this morning… that you were going to have an interesting evening. But maybe she’ll let you postpone it till the sun comes up, since you are her brooder. Back bad? Can I help?”

I roll my eyes, and he blushes. “No, no, Erin, really. Would a massage help? I’ve gotten pretty darn good at those things, with all the coaching I get from Andri. If you want one, I’ll be glad to give one to you. On a platonic basis, if you prefer…”

“Oh, honey, you’re sweet. But no, I think I’ll take a rain check, and turn in early tonight, if possible. I’m just tired, I think. Getting old, you know?” I reach up on my tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for being so nice last night. It was comforting to me, too, to spend it with you. On a platonic basis…”

“Sometimes it’s nice being a guy around you, you know?”

“What?”

“Well…” There’s a burst of cheering and then the strident beat of a Draka sword-dance song begins, and Tom waits until the yelling and clapping have died down somewhat. He goes on: “Well, like last night. I could have been frisky if you wanted to be, but you didn’t, and truthfully, I was really tired, and worn out, and stressed… and it’s nice to be able to say, ‘Let’s just sleep’ and not have hurt feelings, or crossed wires or anything. I appreciate that about you, Erin. I don’t have to act all macho around you all the time. That’s a relief.”

“Oh, okay… I understand. Yeah, Peter felt that way, too, and a lot of my friends who are guys have sort of said that, but not in so many words. You’re the first to come right out and say it. Thanks. I really do appreciate it. You can relax around me, and I can relax around you—that’s important, amidst all this wildness, Tom. Thanks, honey…”

He kisses me gently and I walk through the small groups, past the Draka dancers, swords flashing crimson and gold in the fire- and torchlight, and on until I reach the stables.

**  
“Ah, Erin!” I say. She pauses a little; Mahwel is combing straw out of the Jenny’s hair. The young human girl is blushing and giggling again, well over her nervousness. “You two run along. Why don’t you introduce Mahwel to some of your friends, Jenny?”

“Sure!” she says, and takes his hand. “C’mon, studly thing!”

“Enjoy yourself?” Erin grins when they’ve gone.

“Quite a bit,” I say, embracing her. It’s a little awkward now, and I stroke her belly. “Mahwel’s wonderful, and the little wench was charming – actually a virgin, or was until twenty minutes ago.” Not that that means exactly what it did; a simple painless operation shortly after puberty is now standard practice here. “A hot mount once I got her going, though; she had a thoroughly good time too.”

I study the way Erin’s moving. “Sore back?” I say.

She nods. “Well, let’s take care of that,” I go on, feeling a rush of tenderness. “Lie down here.”

She sinks face down on the blanket with a rustling of straw, and I begin to knead the muscles in her lower back. They are tense; the whole balance of her body is being thrown off a bit. Erin groans as I ease them, then sighs and relaxes as I run my palms from the base of her spine up to her neck.

“Thanks for the party, sweetlin’,” I say, kissing the nape of her neck. “I enjoyed myself. The singers and those… Rockettes? They were wonderful.”

She sighs and turns to me, picking up a scroll and small parcel she’d brought with her.

**  
I sigh and roll over, handing her the scroll and the package with a small smile. “Happy Birthday, Gwen.”

“Ah… I wondered what those were.” She sits astride me, carefully not pressing against my tummy. Her weight is solid, and I’m pressed solidly into the hay. It smells good, fresh, with a little hint of hot summer days. Gwen opens the scroll first, and reads it by the light of the glow globes strung outside. It’s too dim for me to read, but her eyes are better than mine, I think.

**  
This Is Love  
Mary Chapin Carpenter

If you ever need to hear a voice in the middle of the night  
When it seems so black outside that you can’t remember light  
Ever shone on you or the ones you love in this or another lifetime  
And the voice you need to hear is the true and the trusted kind  
With a soft, familiar rhythm in these swirling, unsure times  
When the waves are lapping in and you’re not sure you can swim  
Well, here’s a lifeline

If you ever need to feel a hand take up your own  
When you least expect but want it more than you’ve ever known  
Baby, here’s that hand and baby, here’s my voice that’s calling,  
This is love, all it ever was and will be  
This is love

And if you ever need some proof that time can heal your wounds  
Just step inside my heart and walk around these rooms  
Where the shadows used to be,  
You can feel as well as see how peace can hover  
Now time’s been here to fix what’s broken with its power  
The love that smashed us both to bits spent its last few hours  
Calling out your name, I thought: this is the kind of pain  
From which we don’t recover

But I’m standing here now with my heart held out to you  
You would’ve thought a miracle was all that got us through  
Well baby, all I know, all I know is I’m still standing  
And this is love, all it ever was and will be  
This is love

And I see you still and there’s this catch in my throat and  
I just swallow hard till it leaves me  
There’s nothing in this world that can change what we know  
Still I know I am here if you ever need me  
And this is love

And if you ever think of me let it be round twilight  
When the world has settled down and the last round of sunlight  
Is waning in the sky, as you sit and watch the night descending  
A car will pass out front with lovers at the wheel  
A dog will bark out back and children’s voices peal  
Over and under the air, you’ve been there lost in the remembering

 

And if you ever wish for things that are only in the past  
Just remember that the wrong things aren’t supposed to last  
Babe, it’s over and done and the rest is gonna come when you let it  
And this is love, all it ever was and will be  
This is love, when you let it, if you let it now  
This is love, all it ever was and will be  
This is love…

**

“Erin… this is lovely. You did it? The calligraphy?”

“Yes, Muhmis. On the computer… I designed the font myself, over the last couple of months. I hoped you’d like it, and the message of the song, too.”

“I certainly do, my sweetlin’,” Gwen says, leaning down and kissing me firmly on the mouth, her tongue tracing my lips and then thrusting in deeply. I shudder with pleasure, my sore back forgotten in the magic of the moment. I respond with a kiss of my own, and Gwen chuckles. “Ready to play, little pony?”

I remember the other packet. “If you’ll open the other present, maybe we won’t squish it or lose it in the hay…”

Still chuckling, Gwen rolls off me and opens the second present, placing the scroll and the ribbon of the first on my chest. She unwraps the packet carefully, and holds up the slim leather volume, looking it over. She makes a small noise—a gasp, I realize with great surprise—and begins paging through, slowly. When she’s done, she lies still for a minute, and then turns to me, eyes glittering in the darkness.

“How long did this take you? This is hand-done…”

I grin in the twilight. “Only about a year. Nothing much for someone who’s 485. You like it?” It had taken me almost exactly a year to hand-calligraph one of her mother’s volumes of poetry into the slim volume that’s in her hands; I remember the evenings after everyone had gone to bed, and the times in the mornings, too. The volume I chose was one of Yolande’s last collections, written just before her death. Lives Like Stars; the title gleams dully in gold on the hand-tooled leather cover. Bret’d taught me how to do that over the last year, too, I think.

Her kiss answers that question, and her hands stroke across my chest, cupping, pinching ever so lightly. I groan, deeply, as she slides a leg between mine. Carefully, slowly, teasingly, Muhmis undresses me, tossing the clothes behind her as she takes each piece off. Soon I lay naked before her, conscious of my swollen tummy and the prickles of soft hay beneath me. Conscious, too, of an overwhelming arousal, deeper than usual at this point in the ancient dance. Gwen’s lips caress mine as she moves her hands across my body, and I gasp in pleasure.

“And this is my third birthday present from you, hmmm?” Muhmis whispers, her fingers slipping between my legs, which spread apart of their own accord; my body arches to her touch.

“Uhhhnnnn… yes, Muhmis, yes…”

**  
The music brings me back to my senses somewhat; Gwen’s fingers trace the line of my lips as she sighs deeply and moves to sit next to me in the hay.

“Such a pretty pony you are, my Erin…” She strokes some hay out of my hair, grinning down at me.

“Hmmm…” I arch my back again, slowly, enjoying the overwhelming feeling of relaxation that’s flooded through me. “Happy Birthday…”

“I think I’ll have a party like this one every year …” she kisses my tummy loudly, and I giggle.

I sit up and hug her. She returns it, with interest. We sit like that for a few minutes, her body so warm and muscles hard against mine, until Gwen raises her head to listen to the sounds outside.

“What in the world is that noise?”

I grin. “Chumbawumba.”

“What in all the seven hells is that? Sounds like an illness…” Gwen laughs.

“It’s the name of a band… they’re sort of old hat now, but they were pretty hip when I was in my early thirties. I got Jennifer to book them so we oldsters would have something to dance to, Muhmis…”

“Let’s get dressed, then, and I’ll try to dance to this… what was it?”

“Chumbawumba. They’re playing songs from their ‘Tubthumper’ album…” I listen for a moment. “This is ‘Mary, Mary’. Got a good beat, don’t you think?”

“Hmph.” Gwen turns up her nose, watching me out of the corners of her eyes, and breaks into a wide grin when my face falls. “Oh, they’re not so bad… come on, let’s dance…”

We dress quickly, brushing hay from each other’s bodies and clothes, and Gwen, holding her presents in one hand, and my hand in the other, walks us towards the music and the lights. Before we reach them, she pauses, and I wait by her side.

“Erin?”

“Yes, Muhmis?”

“Thank you… this, these… mean so much. Thank you, darlin’… you made this a very special night, indeed.” She says it softly, but I hear her. She leans into me and our lips meet for a long moment.

Alice spots us and calls out a greeting: “Hey, come on, Muhmis, Erin… let’s dance while they’re playing music we can move to!” Her merry face is flushed and Jennifer grins from behind her, an arm around Alice’s waist.

Gwen kisses me again, hard, and then leads me into the dancing crowd, next to my wife and my best friend, and the night whirls on in a circle of music and light…


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13

“I still don’t understand all this stuff about a non-notational currency. The last thing I remember from my high school econ class is Philip Whitehouse falling asleep and then falling out of his desk, Jennifer. I don’t have the dang degrees you do!” I shift the hungry baby from one side of my chest to the other; this little drakensis doesn’t just want to nosh a little, I think, he wants to nosh a whole lot! Thank god he doesn’t have teeth yet… these tiny gums are tough enough.

“Listen, I’ll explain it one more time, if you’ll listen this time instead of making faces at me, girl,” replies Jennifer, sighing in exasperation. She puts down her papers and marker, and takes the tiny bundle Marie Claire’s handing her. “While we’re both relatively motionless, let’s get this theory straightened out in your head. No matter what Philip Whatever did in your econ class aeons ago…”

She begins explaining the world economy to me, with admirable restraint; her temper is pretty darn impressive when it gets riled. I grin and bear it, thinking all the time about things I have to get done, meetings I have to have, reports to prepare… but I actually do learn a thing or two, to my surprise. Evidently, to Jenny’s, as well, since she leans over and gives me a peck on the lips as encouragement. “See, you actually can learn something about economics and finance, Erin, given some, well, motivation…” She hoists the sleepy baby girl up onto her shoulder and pats until a surprised-sounding burp comes from the tiny bundle.

I laugh, having just done the same for _____, who is lying contentedly in my lap, ready for a back rub and a long nap. That sounds pretty darn good, I think to myself, for me as well as you, kiddo. I bounce him gently, watching bright blue eyes go wide in surprise; little fists ball up and wave in the air.

“Yeah, yeah… economics, schmomonics…” I duck Jenny’s half-hearted slap, and stick my tongue out at her. The baby in my lap chortles with happiness. Marie Claire takes the two children from us for their naps, and I relax, stretching my arms above my head in luxurious slowness. Joints pop and tendons creak; it’s been a week since the birth, and I need to get back into working out, soon.

“Having one of those intensely academic discussions, I hear,” comments Gwen, as she walks across the patio toward us. Jennifer blushes but I don’t; I wink broadly at Muhmis, who smiles back hungrily. “Hmmm…”

“That was a horny-sounding ‘hmmm’ if ever I heard one,” Jennifer says under her breath, knowing that both Gwen and I have heard her. The trees, some Bradford pears, are tossing in the autumn breeze, and the sky is an azure blue, speckled with fluffy white clouds. I close my eyes for a moment, just enjoying life, and feel Gwen’s hand stroke through my thick, slightly grey-streaked dark blonde hair. I sigh in contentment, and then stretch out a couple of toes, pinching Jennifer on the calf.

“Ow! Hey!” She laughs, reaching down to tickle my foot. I hear Gwen’s purring chuckle as she stands there, between us, watching. I also feel a rising tide of arousal, and part of me calmly assesses that Muhmis must be letting loose on her pheromonal control, usually held in a fairly conservative grip. A blush begins to spread down my face, to my throat, and beyond, and I know Gwen’s watching and enjoying the effect she’s having on her two saafn.

“Why don’t we adjourn to my quarters? I think we could have an equally interesting discussion there, don’t you?” Muhmis’ hand on my shoulder squeezes slightly, and I squeak. 

“Hey, anything but another discussion about the world economy, Muhmis! I couldn’t bear that…”

Jennifer pouts a little. “I didn’t think I was that bad at explaining things, but maybe to someone whose brain is apparently made out of computer chips and cornbread…”

Chuckling, Gwen tugs us both to our feet, and then easily hoists us, one to each arm, our bodies resting firmly against hers. I feel muscle move under my fingers like machined steel through oil as I caress the nape of her neck, stroking the fine red hairs there. God, it feels so different from a human being, I think, but so damn freakin’ good… Gwen kisses me, long and hard, and then does the same to Jennifer. “I think I can explain some concepts of physics and human physiology this afternoon… and I think you’ll enjoy the lecture, as well as the practical demonstrations…”

Carrying us easily, she walks through the shaded patio area, and then through one of the back entrances to the house, and on to her quarters, on the third floor, purring all the while. I whisper in her ear, “Will we have to pass an exam at the end, or is this a practicum?”

As Muhmis tosses the two of us gently onto her oversized bed, and begins to strip, she’s still laughing. “Oh, we’ll just see how you do with the practical applications…perhaps an exam, later…”

Jenny speaks up as she ducks under the covers shyly. “What’s the extra credit question going to be like?”

Gwen’s aroused growl answers, and the two of us humans are tumbled into sensual heaven by our Draka mistress that morning…

**  
The leaves have begun to turn, and some are sprinkling the pathway with orange and red as I slowly ride the horse toward the house. We’ve been out for a good ride; I only fell off once, and that’s because I was reaching for some pretty leaves, I reason internally. The horse, an Appaloosa mare named Betty, has gotten used to my rather unhorsewoman-like demeanor, and merely waited for me to pick myself up and climb back on board.

“Come on, Betty, this part’s level—let’s go for it! I’ve got a carrot and a sugar cube waitin’ for you at the stable, too,” I say, kneeing her into a gallop. I hang on for dear life, and the horse merrily gallops down the sunlight-dappled path, leaves scattering at our approach. We seem to rocket past some of the farm workers, harvesting the grapes for the last wine pressing of the year, and then the barns are looming up in front of us.

I begin to sit back on the saddle, pressing down, signaling Betty to slow down; she responds immediately, almost throwing me over her neck. “Yeah, that’s it, stop on a dime, why don’t ya? Last time I tried to slow you down, you took forever… crazy ole horse,” I mutter affectionately, patting her white and brown shoulders. She whickers and begins, on her own accord, to trot towards the stables.

Bret’s leaning against one of the doors, looking over a piece of leatherwork, but keeping an eye on me, too. Muhmis is there, on her huge horse. She’s decked out in her riding attire, and looks, well, incredible, I think, as I urge Betty to slow down some more. Betty prances a little, maybe showing off for the other horse, and I grip the pommel tightly. I grin at Gwen, who’s watching me with amusement.

“You may be a sailor, but you’ll never fool anyone about being a horse rider, darlin’,” she says, as she moves her horse to one side. The gelding she rides, Windfire, is taller than Betty, and is eyeing her with some grumpiness. I’ve been through the “I’m on a horse that meets another horse who doesn’t like the horse I’m on” scenario before, and quickly dismount, rather ungracefully, but successfully. I lead Betty into the stables and put her in one of the stalls, unhooking the saddle.

Before I can do anything else, one of the stable girls is there, and I’m basically shoo’ed out of the stalls and out of the stables, but not before giving Betty her carrot and her sugar cube. Wiping my hand on my jeans, to get some of her horse spit, I come back out into the sun, and blink for a minute.

“Have a good ride, though?” asks Gwen, stepping down from her horse.

“Only fell off once,” I reply, grinning. “My fault, not Betty’s…”

“That’s usually the way it is,” Gwen agrees, tousling my hair affectionately. “But you are getting better, I’ll give you that much…”

“She rides a horse like a pig flies…” murmurs Bret, eyeing me. “Not very gracefully…” He smiles, and winks at me. I blush, remembering the times in the corral, with him leading the horse, and me just trying to hang on. Hey, I’m a swabbie, not a jockey, I think, and wink back at him.

“I’ll fix this for you tonight, Muhmis, if that’s all right…” He holds up the leather work, and I can see it’s part of a bridle. “Need to supervise them kids getting the hay in, and check on the construction of the new stables, down over yonder…” He nods, using his head to point in the direction of the new building.

“That’s fine, Bret. I’ll check with you tomorrow about it. Thanks,” Gwen says, and takes my hand. “Let’s walk back to the house the long way, Erin, and do some talking.”

“Okay,” I wonder what she’s thinking about… the negotiations with the Samos, maybe, or something political about the Archonate... or maybe just Household stuff. I hope she doesn’t ask me about the most recent global warming figures, since I don’t have them together yet, I worry to myself.

“Hey, why so tense now?” Her husky voice breaks me from my revelry. She closes her fingers around my hand, which is enveloped in her larger one, and I smile up into her tanned face. Leaf-green eyes twinkle back, but there’s a slight frown on her brow.

“Um… well, I was just going over in my head things I don’t have ready for you yet, and I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me about them. Sorry, didn’t mean to tense up. What, if I may ask, Muhmis, did you want to talk about?”

“ ‘If I may ask’… you’re always full of questions, girl, one of the things I like about you so dearly…” Gwen smiles. “I was thinking about the negotiations, and the upcoming face-to-face meetings we’re going to be having. Do you and Tom want to go, or should I take a couple of servus instead? The last meeting you two had with the Samothracians wasn’t very friendly, and it seemed to upset you and him both. Tom possibly more than you, though.”

As we walk along the lane, hand in hand, I close my eyes for a moment, remembering. We had met them on a temporary base on Titan, and the meeting had been… tense. Actually, the Samos had stared at us two like we were fleas with bubonic plague, or something similar, I think. “Um, well… It did upset Tom more than me, I think, Muhmis. But it wasn’t pleasant for me, either. They really hate us.”

“They can’t understand you.”

“Maybe I can’t understand them, but I don’t hate them, Gwen.”

“What don’t you understand about the Samos, Erin?” She turns to look me full in the face, eyes full of curiosity and interest.

“Well…” I pause for a moment, to collect my thoughts. “Hmm. I don’t understand people that intelligent doing what they’ve done. Which is,” I go on in response to her tilted head, “become basically the thing they hate the most, so they can somehow destroy it. They’ve designed their whole society around the destruction of another. That doesn’t seem to make a lot of long-term evolutionary sense to me.”

“How’ve they become the Draka, younglin’?” Gwen sounds amused at the thought.

“They’ve just chosen a different route… y’all chose biology, altering your genes, and becoming homo drakensis. They’ve chosen technology, and become some sort of cyberhumans. They’re no more human than you or the servus are, Muhmis.”

“True… they’re not human like you archaics. But genetically, they are homo sapiens…”

“Yeah, under the hood they are…” I look up, to see some puzzlement in her face. “Sorry. Old reference, to automobiles and their engines. Not like I know a lot about those, either. This is just some stuff I’ve thought about, and talked with Tom about.” I grin.

“Go on…”

The fields beside us, hemmed in by split-pole fences, are russet in the afternoon sun; the wheat waves lazily like ocean swells as the breeze moves over the tassles. I stop for a moment, picking a leaf off a sassafras tree to nibble on. A hawk cries, high above us, and I watch as Gwen’s head smoothly tracks the bird’s flight, when I can’t see it at all in the bright blue and white sky.

“Gwen… it’s just that the Samos seem so caught up in wanting to destroy the Draka, and anything and everything connected with them. They’re just as brutal as the Draka can be; the Draka, however, at least think about other stuff to do besides whale the hell out of the Samos. They’d kill all of us, here, and not feel very bad about it, if they could. So they’re just as much a danger to the human race as…”

Gwen turns to me from where she was leaning her arms on the fence. “As we Draka are?”

I meet her eyes. “Yes.”

“Some Draka, anyway…” She turns back to the field, and stares out over it for a few moments, silently. “Not all of the Race want to destroy humanity, merely to bring it under the Yoke…”

Which is almost the same thing, I think silently, oh so silently, to myself. “That’s good to know, Muhmis. I think you’re one of the Race that feels that way, and you’ve got quite a strong political backing now.”

“Yes, which can be a good thing as well as a bad. But that’s another issue. Why do you think the Samothracians hate us so much, Erin?”

“It’s easy to say you hate someone if you’re afraid of them. You don’t trust them, they’re different than you are, and you see them as a threat. Which, of course, the Draka are. Same-same for the Samos, Muhmis. But somehow, someday, it seems like it would make better sense to move past all that, and let history be history. Learn from it, and move on. Adapt, instead of trying to refight the Final War all over again. All that means is more dead people.”

“Especially now, youngster.”

“Yes, especially now. And that’s one reason I gave Tom for why we’re working so hard for you, for the Race. You’re a chance we have, we humans, to get off this planet and go places. If we don’t support you, even if we tried to fight you, which would be suicidal and stupid, the Samothracians still wouldn’t ever really accept us… if we survived at all. We’d still be ‘those serf humans’ who ‘collaborated with the Race’. We’d end up just as enslaved as we are now, only maybe worse. You folks seem able to see some good in us.”

Gwen reaches out a hand to mine, and the heat from it seems to calm me down a little. I curl my fingers around hers and look down at the grain of the wood fence for a moment, fighting my anger. Between a rock and a hard place, girl, the old, old story… “Heck, Gwen…”

“Hmm?”

“At least you haven’t forced us to become like them. Like the Samos, half human and half computer. I mean, we’ve got these doohickeys,” I tap behind my right ear, indicating the transducer, “but that’s about it. You’ve provided medical care, technology, peace… time to think. Maybe that’s what we needed, time to think. No matter whether we’re Chinese, American, Japanese, British, Iraqi… to you, we’re all the same. Maybe we needed to see that. We are all the same—we’re human. But when you don’t have anything else to compare it to, it’s easy to forget that, and just see these surface differences.”

“Interesting.” She turns to me, and the lowering sun strikes highlights into her deep red hair. My heart still catches, after all these years, I think, at how beautiful she is. Amazing. “You do think a lot about this, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I have to find some way to make this have meaning. That’s a human need, maybe even a need that goes beyond mere humanity. Draka need that; you find it in conquest, exploration, domination. But even your thinking has begun to change, a teensy bit. Maybe there’s more than just those things out there that make life have meaning. That’s where I see the Samos as being stuck. Life has no meaning beyond destroying the Draka. God forbid they ever do—if that happens, besides all of my hopes being crushed, and me and you being killed, which would be inconvenient, I don’t know what would happen to them. They’d lose their meaning. They wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

“They’d find something.”

“Maybe…” I shrug. “Life’s too short to spend it hating. That’s a waste of power, of energy.”

“Energy?”

“The way I see it, each life form has a certain amount, X, of energy. That’s it. What you choose to spend on regrets, or hatred, or fear… that’s just that much more you don’t have to invest in positive things, like love, and learning, and exploring… and you can waste your whole life that way. I almost did. Both after losing my friends on the Nimitz, and then losing Peter… I almost invested all my energy into missing what was gone, irretrievably. It’s so easy to fall into that trap…”

“Yes, it is, indeed. But it’s also a little simple-minded to think that you can just talk people out of hatred, a hatred that’s almost bred into the race.”

“You said that with a little ‘r’, didn’t you?”

Gwen nods. I go on:

“The Race, with a big ‘r’, you can’t hate?”

“Oh, we can, on a personal level, but on a higher level, no, we don’t hate. We don’t hate the Samos, we just plan on either destroying them or conquering them. There’s not a lot of hate involved. It’s colder than that.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” She smiles, but it’s not a happy smile. More like a predator, eyeing a trapped enemy, waiting for the moment to strike, I think. I shiver a little, and chew the sassafras twig some more.

“I just don’t see a big survival link to hatred. It leads you to take chances, to put more resources into one thing than another, than you would otherwise. It’s a tricky emotion, and I just don’t see it as a basis for government, or philosophy. There are enemies, and if you have to destroy them to save yourself, then that’s what has to be. But is that all there is?”

“Life’s a struggle, then you die? Sometimes it seems that way, Erin. But I see what you’re saying, too.” She grins whitely at me. “Do you hate the Samos? Or the Draka? Or both, perhaps?”

“You really want me to answer that? Won’t Schalk come down here and zap a controller band on my head if I answer the ‘wrong’ way?”

“No, no… that won’t happen!” Gwen grins again, and then becomes more serious. “I demand your honesty; you know that, my wench. Answer me, and please don’t be afraid. Just tell me what you think. You know me well enough now to know you’re safe with me that way…”

“Okay…” How do I say this? I wonder frantically. Oh, well, hey-diddle-diddle, straight up the middle, as Sergeant Strong used to say, on board the Nimitz, crazy old leatherneck he was, I think. “Um, well… I don’t like the fact that the Draka have enserfed us. I don’t like that, and never will. In fact, I think it’s kind of a weak point of the Race, that they have to enserf anyone else they meet. That’s a drain on their resources, and not a very positive way to treat people. But I don’t hate the Race. I don’t hate the Samos, for that matter. I don’t like what they would like to do to us, or to you. I don’t know…”

I pause, and look out over the field of wheat. “Hell, Gwen, I’ve only hated three people in my life before the Arrival: Chief Grey, and my so-called parents. After the Arrival, I’ve hated three others—the survivors of the terrorist group who killed Peter and Ruthann, and tried to kill Alexandra. I didn’t really hate Stan Phillips, that guy who tried to kill me when I was carrying Ariadne. It was more like he was a wild animal that I had to fight off or something. Not the same thing as hate.”

“Can you serve me productively in an atmosphere like the one at the meeting on Titan?”

“Yes, Gwen, I can. And I’m intensely curious to hear it firsthand, too. Can’t deny that. But Tom, on the other hand… he’s still dealing with the dislike we sometimes run into here on Earth. Getting it both from here and from the Samos was sort of devastating for him, since he’s got such an idealistic vision of what the Draka have done for the planet.”

She smiles at me, this time a warm one, full of affection. “And you’re not idealistic, too?”

“No, not the same way Tom is. He wants to save the planet, even if it means losing some lives to do it. He has that ‘true believer’ fanaticism behind those ideas, too. I don’t. I guess I’m a fatalist, or somethin’. I ain’t been to fancy ole schools like Jennifer. She’d know what to call it. I try to be a realist. You’re here, y’all ain’t going away, and we may as well deal with it and try to do the best we can for the largest number of folks. Get folks medical care, food, housing, education… maybe even get us to the stars, without us blowing each other up first. That’s the way I see it. I don’t like it, but I live with it. I’d rather have this than nothing, or what the Samos would probably turn us into, Muhmis. And that’s the truth.”

“You’ve got dreams for your race, little ‘un. You, in your own way, are an idealist. But you’ve got your beliefs pretty firmly anchored around the value of human beings, while Tom has his tied to the value of the planet. I can see the difference, now. That’s fine—we need a mixture of both. And both of you have been invaluable to me, that’s true. I think I’ll take you along, and Andri. Tom can live without him for a bit, don’t you think?”

There’s a twinkle in her green eyes as she says this, and I grin back. Tom and Andri have become quite the partners, which is good in a way, I think. Tom hasn’t ever really spoken about losing Peter, with whom he was deeply in love. Andri and Tom have a lot in common, and it’s even convenient for Gwen, since she likes both of them a great deal as prettybucks, I chuckle. 

“Oh, Muhmis, Tom’ll be sooo pitiful when you announce that Andri’s going with you!”

Gwen laughs. “I’ll see that Tom’s suitably rewarded for his sacrifice in giving up his favorite prettybuck for a few weeks…” She takes my hand again, and leads us back to the path. The shadows are getting longer, and I’m becoming rather aware of the fact that a feeding for the baby has to come, and soon. Gwen stops us just before we reach the House, and kisses me, firmly. Her hands rove over my body, and she chuckles softly in pleasure as I arch my back, pressing against her and returning her kisses with interest.

“I would have been quite sad to leave you behind, my sweet…” Muhmis murmurs into my ear as her hands caress my back, and down… “Quite sad, indeed…”

I shiver with delight, and whisper back, “You and me, both, Gwen!” Hand in hand, we walk into the House where dinner awaits us, and a certain hungry young Draka is awaiting me, dinner for him. The sun sets rapidly, leaving the moon to light the pathways outside.

**  
“So you’re off to space, are you? I always said you were kinda spacey, chick!” says Alice, her arms around me in the dark. I wait for my pulse to quit thumping in my head before I reply; Alice has a way of chasing everything but her out of my head with a few kisses and then some more…

“Gee, thanks!” I roll from under her arm, and pull the sheets back up. The cool autumn evening is getting late, and the sweat from our exertions is drying, making me all goose bumpy. I snuggle back against her, and whisper, “I’ll miss you. I wish you could come, too, Ally.”

“Hey, I know…”she murmurs, hugging me tightly. “I know. You’ll be fine, and it’s not really going to be that long, this time, now is it?”

“Long enough for another goodbye?” I hint, kissing her fingertips. She smiles in reply, and moves to slide on top of me. Our bodies begin to move in ancient rhythms, and the night goes by…

I wake to find the bed empty; I stretch for long, luxurious moments and then pull on a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. I pad down to the nursery, where a sleepy Jennifer is feeding her little cuckoo; I take Alois from Marie Claire and sit in the rocker next to Jenny. Happy, the baby in my arms coos and then begins to feed, lustily. I grin, and stroke the thick blonde hair on his head. His eyes are so light blue they’re startling, I think, and he closes them in contentment as he suckles. I sigh, feeling relief flood through me; my breasts were getting sore earlier in the morning, but I was too darn sleepy to get up.

“You look… mmmh…” Jenny yawns. “Awake. I’m not…”

“You sure aren’t! Have a late night last night?” I smile over at her.

Another yawn. “Reports, mostly. Trying to get all this stuff done before you, Andri and Muhmis take off on your little jaunt to Titan is giving me a massive case of heartburn, too…”

“It’s no vacation trip, believe me. I’ve been pulling some long days, myself, trying to get ready. I think we’re there, though.”

“Taking Alois?”

I shift the baby up onto my shoulder and commence patting. “Yes, and Rosta’s going to do nanny service for me. She’s been itching to get off planet again, so now she’s got her chance. It’s not exactly Selenopolis or anything, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

Jennifer laughs. “But what will Alice do for a shopping pal?”

“Oh, she’s got plans for you, my pretty, and your little dog Toto, too… ahh heh heh heh heh” I laugh, imitating the creaky voice of the Wicked Witch of the West. Both babies stop what they’re doing and peer uncertainly at me, and I immediately stop. A crying baby drakensis isn’t a joyful thing to be around, as I know from previous experience. Jennifer begins to hum an old Yiddish folksong, and rocks her baby along with the tune, and soon I find myself patting Alois’ back to the same beat. The babies calm down, and soon two tremendous burps reverberate through the nursery. 

Marie Claire looks up from her holodesk, and grins. “I’ll check them and then put them down for a nap, how’s that sound?”

“Fine with me, dahling!” I reply, handing Alois to her and then giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She blushes a little, under her dusky, cinnamon-hued skin, and gives my shoulder a squeeze. Jenny hands ______ over to her once Alois is tucked in and sound asleep; soon both tiny drakensis heads are off in dreamland, dreaming whatever baby Draka dream about.

“Ready for breakfast?” I hold out a hand to Jennifer, and she shakes her head no.

“I’m going back to bed for an hour or so… I’m sure not very hungry. I just feel worn out. Okay? You won’t be leaving before lunch, will you?”

“I don’t think so, but then I’m not exactly sure when we are leaving… I’ll say goodbye before we go, though. Go get some more sack time—you really do look tired. You should get your assistants to do more, honey… it shouldn’t be just all you. You’ll wear yourself out, girlfriend. Maybe Yannan could help you some.”

“Hmmm…” She blearily rubs her eyes as we walk down the hallway. “Does he have an eye for detail?”

“Yeah. He’s really good at the stuff I assign him to do; I’ve never once been disappointed in anything he’s done, and he’s very reliable. I’ll talk with him before I leave, and he can come and have a visit with you sometime today. How’s that sound?”

“Okay…” She stops, leaning one hand against the oak-paneled wall, eyes shut tightly.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Jenny?” I put my hands on her shoulders, trying to support her and look her over at the same time.

“I’m just tired… really, really tiiyaad…” Jenny slumps into my arms, eyes rolling back into her head. Oh, jeezie petes, what do I—Muhmis. Hey, Muhmis, I need help here…it’s Jennifer, she’s passed out, help! Shawonda, hey, send some corpsmen, didi mau! I ease Jennifer to the carpeted floor, and lay her out flat.

“Jenny, come on, honey… wake up. Jenny?” I pat her hand, and then feel dumb. I reach down and take her pulse, and it’s barely there, weak and sort of thuddy-feeling. Muhmis’ voice comes into my head, firm and reassuring:

I’ll be right there. Is she breathing well? Her pulse is off… Shawonda and a medteam are on their way, too. Just make sure she’s breathing all right, Erin. Muhmis will be there…

Shawonda’s voice cuts in, too. I’m on the way, Erin. Do like Muhmis says, keep her breathing okay. We’re at the front door now. Hang in there, squid!

God, why don’t they hurry up, I think to myself. Jenny, come on, you can’t do this to me. What the hell’s wrong, how can I fix it?

My friend is deeply unconscious; I peel back an eyelid and see blank, glazed brown eyes looking up at me. Her breathing is growing more ragged by the minute, and I loosen her clothes as much as I can. “Hey, Marie Claire—” I call, and the young woman pokes her head out the nursery door, a puzzled expression on her face.

It changes to concern, and fear, and I raise my voice to cut through all that. “Bring me a blanket, sugar. Hurry!”

“Okay, Sera Erin!” She disappears back inside the room, and then a few seconds later bounds out, running down the hall with a blanket in her hands. We spread it over Jennifer’s prone form, and I show Marie Claire how to hold the unconscious woman’s feet slightly elevated. It’s all I know to do, I think, and it’s not damn well enough…

I hear the medteam coming up the stairs, just as Muhmis reaches us. She’s naked, but I don’t really notice; all I’m focused on is my best friend on the floor. Gwen nudges me aside, and listens carefully for a moment, shushing me when I start to say something.

I hang my head and wait, red rising in my face despite my years of learning to control it. The medteam, headed by Shawonda, slides to a halt next to us, and begins work. Gwen moves aside with an agile bounce, and grips me by the upper arms, raising me to face her.

“I know I made you angry, telling you to be quiet, but I needed to hear her heart. Understand me, wench?” Her eyes are full of concern, but there’s an iron warning in her voice. I know not to ignore it, too.

“I’m sorry, Muhmis… I was just going to tell you what happened… I’m sorry I got mad for a minute. I didn’t mean any disrespect. You know that. How is she—what’s wrong? Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be okay once we get her to the clinic. It’s looking like a fairly mild heart attack, Muhmis, a myocardial infarction. She should come around here in a second or two… I’ve got the medcomp stabilizing her right now. Jenny? Hey, Jennifer, wake up now. Can you open your eyes for me?” Shawonda leans over the floating stretcher, her voice strong and loud. Jennifer moans and blinks…

“A heart attack? But… how? I mean, why? We were just talking and then she said she was really tired. She said it funny, too, with a real strong accent…” My hands are shaking, and Gwen shifts her grip from my arms to my hands, her larger hands encompassing mine completely. She holds them steady, and I feel comforted by her strength.

“Well, we’ll have to run some tests… she passed her last physical, before the baby was born, with flying colors. I don’t know, Erin… but she’ll be okay. Hey, there, girl. Jenny? Hey, look at me, now. That’s good, no, don’t try to get up. You’re going to be fine.” Shawonda gently pushes my friend back to a prone position, and nods for the man at the head of the floater to move it down the hall. “We’ll go ahead and take her to the clinic, Muhmis…”

“That’s fine. Jennifer, you’re going to be fine, just fine, sweet. Everything will be all right,” Gwen says, slowly, distinctly, to Jenny. The young woman nods sleepily and they take her smoothly away. Marie Claire sniffles softly, behind us, and Muhmis turns to her. Pulling us both close in a hug, she kisses first my forehead, then Marie Claire’s.

“You both did an excellent job… you kept her from suffering too much from shock, which was basically all you could do. She’ll be fine, really. We’ll find out why she got ill, and fix it. Shhhh, now, no more tears. You were both very brave. I’m proud of you.”

There’s a burble from the nursery, and Marie Claire, after standing on tip-toe to kiss Gwen back, hurries in to check on the infants, leaving me alone in the hall with Muhmis. I sag against her, and she holds me tightly.

“Why, Gwen? She’s so healthy…she can outlast me five minutes on the stair master machine! She’s never sick…”

“She’s been working herself too damn hard. That’s one reason. Exhaustion. I’ve been lax on supervising you two, since the births went so well. I should’ve been more aware…” She shakes her head, frowning. “My saafns’ health is my responsibility, and I should’ve known she was pushing it too hard. Have to work on that…”

“But you’ve had all this planning and political stuff to do, Gwen. I should’ve been helping her more, too. I just didn’t think she was that tired…”

“It surprised all of us, and her most of all, darlin’,” Gwen says, smiling down at me. “But she’ll be all right. Shawonda’s an excellent physician. We just need to slow Jennifer down a bit, that’s all. We’ll work on that when we come back from Titan. Sound like a plan?”

“Yes, Muhmis,” I say, snuggling against her. I feel sort of woozy now, with the adrenaline wearing off. God, if Shawonda hadn’t gotten to her, if we didn’t have the medical facilities we have… Jennifer could be dead right now, I think to myself, and shudder.

“Ssssaaaa, sweetlin’… it’s all done now, and you did make me proud. Fast response, and good thinking.” Gwen rests her head on top of mine, her arms firmly around me. We stand like that for a few moments, me relishing the warmth and strength of her, and I think she was probably enjoying it, too. Her grip loosens on me slightly, and I look up into her leaf-green, ancient eyes.

“Thanks, Muhmis…not the most auspicious start to the day, hmm?”

“No… but it could have been worse. I’m just glad you were with her. Thanks, to you, too, Erin. Come on, now, let’s get breakfast.”

“Don’t you want to get dressed first?”

“Whatever for? I plan on undressing you immediately after I finish breakfast, darlin’…” she chuckles, and I blush down to the soles of my feet. Chucking me playfully under the chin, she takes my hand and walks me down to the first floor, and the dining hall.

**  
As I wait on the front porch for Gwen and Andri to join me, I rock Alois. “Guy, we just have to work out a way to keep Jennifer from getting worn out, you and me…”

He burbles back something important, chubby fists waving in the sunlight. He’s wearing a little jumpsuit Alexandra bought for him before she and Patrick went off to school in Archona. I miss her, I think; she was just getting past the hormonal frenzy part of adolescence, and was actually fun to talk with again. So was Patrick, for the most part. His hormones are still running high, though; one minute he’s on top of the world, and the next the world’s on top of him. Oh, well. Been there, done that. Didn’t get a t-shirt.

I grin down at the baby. “Oh, all the fun stuff you’ve got ahead of you, swabbie-mine. Oh, boy!”

“He’s got his whole life ahead of him, darlin’…what a wonderful thing, indeed,” says Schalk, from behind me. His hands slip over my shoulders, and one finger dangles playfully in front of his son’s hands. They make semi-coordinated grabs for it, much more together than a human baby’s reaches would be at the same age. I sigh and lean back into the Draka behind me, and look up at him.

“Yeah, but I was thinking how wild things were here with two teenage Draka girls… just think what it’ll be like with a boy and a girl…”

“Sounds like Gwen better make sure her household staff is young and spry, to me!” Schalk laughs, running a hand through my hair gently. “They’ll probably all be sitting down carefully for a few months.”

“If they can find time to sit down at all,” I reply, grinning.

“Yes…” He looks up from me and the baby as Gwen and Andri come onto the veranda. Andri’s lugging his favorite satchel, probably full of those silly romance vidisks he’s addicted to, I think. I wink at him, and he mugs at me and the baby, who chortles happily.

“All ready, my saafn?” Gwen says, hands on hips. She’s wearing her walking blacks, something she hasn’t done for quite some time, and she looks very focused, very intense. She was after breakfast, too, I remember, and blush. She smiles at me, that odd, closed-in curve of her lips that makes me wonder what she’s thinking about. 

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, getting up and hoisting Alois to my shoulder. “Could you…”

“Certainly,” Schalk De Lange says, and helps me put Alois into his baby carrier, slung in front of me. The baby whimpers a little, but then finds a teething ring, and begins sucking, noisily. That makes me make a face, thinking, oh, hell, there goes my blouse…wet spots again. Gwen grins, and strokes through the baby’s thick blond hair lovingly.

“Is Rosta ready?”

“Yes, Muhmis, she’s down at the floater, flirting madly with the young Draka woman down there… or rolling in the grass with her, or both…” I laugh. Andri joins me, and Gwen swats him on the fanny as he precedes her down the steps. He yelps a little, and grinning, jogs down the drive towards the waiting aircar. Schalk gives Alois a resounding kiss on the forehead, and then gives me one, too, and Gwen takes me by the hand, walking slowly with me down the raked gravel drive.

“Jennifer’s going to be fine; no serious damage to the heart muscle. It was a very good thing you were there, though, since she could have had problems.” Gwen squeezes my hand gently. 

“I’m sorry she’s been so overworked. I really didn’t realize how stressed out she was, Muhmis. We all try to help each other out around here, you know.”

“I know, and I certainly appreciate it. Your work has been excellent, and so has the majority of the other staff member’s. But we will have to get together on this and fix the problem before it grows any worse. I don’t need my saafn falling over from exhaustion.”

“No, that’s not very much fun.”

Gwen grins. “Feeling a little tired yourself?”

“After you holding me upside down for forty-five minutes? Nah.” I squeeze her hand back, and blush. My ears feel hot in the cool autumn sunlight, and I know I’ve turned cherry red. Gwen’s low chuckle makes it worse, too.

“I’ll try to make sure all of you get a rest every now and then, darlin’,” she whispers in my ear as we approach the waiting aircar. Her tongue flicks into my ear as well, leaving a fiery trail of arousal behind it. I giggle, softly, and dodge a baby fist aimed at my nose. Gwen catches Alois’ hand, and kisses it.

“Off to Titan, then, youngsters…”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter 14

I find myself staring out the transparent viewport, out into the black of space. Points of fiery light flame all around us, and I wonder what the star names are. It looks different than they show it in the movies, I think, crossing my arms. It’s cold. Cold and empty. Unbidden, some of Yolande’s poetry comes to mind, and I shiver. She definitely got the moods right on the ones I remember.

Andri breaks into my dark thoughts cheerfully. “Rosta says Alois is hungry again, Erin.”

“He’s always hungry; he’s a Draka,” I sigh, turning from the viewport. The tall, lithe servus grins at me, and rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t they though? If not for one thing…” he shrugs his shoulders, “it’s another.”

“I’ll go feed him before he gnaws a hole in the hull or something,” I smile, and pat Andri on one of his firmly-muscled shoulders as I walk by.

I walk slowly, carefully, down the main aisle, making semi-formal bows to the various high-ranking Draka officials, some of whom return the gesture of submission with a friendly wave, or a smile. A few don’t seem to notice me at all, but they’d sure as heck notice if I didn’t do it, I wryly say to myself. You bet. Rosta and the baby are in the aft compartment; he’s beginning to babble loudly as I step through the hatch.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sera Erin,” Rosta says, handing Alois to me quickly. “He’s really hungry.”

“Well, he had a good three hour nap, too, so he’s gonna be,” I reply, sitting down with the baby in my arms. The chair molds itself to me in a fluid motion for an instant, and my skin sort of crawls. I just can’t get used to metal and plastic-looking things that move on you. It’s creepy. Of course, Patrick and his generation don’t even pay it a second thought, I think, a little enviously. Man, to be his age, now…

Alois attaches himself and begins refueling; hot little hands on either side of my breast. I stroke his hair and smile down at him. If only they could stay this small, or this friendly, I muse. Lots of ‘if onlys’ nowadays. Rosta has scampered up to the fore compartment, and I hear the low murmur of her voice with Andri’s. She’s so excited about getting to go, and feel important; it’s kinda fun watching her youthful exuberance. I need some of that energy, sure enough.

“How’s the trip so far for you, sweetlin’?” Gwen’s red head pops through the hatchway.

“Just fine, Muhmis.”

“I saw you at the viewport…”

I smile. “Of course you did. You basically have to pry me away from there with a crowbar, don’t you?”

Muhmis returns the smile. “Yes. You get lost out there in your thoughts, don’t you, Erin?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Hmm…” She steps on through, and an aide, neatly uniformed in the formal black of the War Directorate, walks past me, handing her a data chip. It’s the size of my thumbnail, but holds a huge amount of information, I think, watching my Muhmis thumbprint for it. “Thank you, Charles.”

“Service, Archon.”

“Glory.” He bobs his head at her and moves back to his seat in the fore section. Gwen pulls a silver diadem out from a pocket, and rolls her eyes slightly at me. “Always something else to do, besides talk and look at my darlings…” She kisses me softly on the forehead, and then kisses Alois, on his forehead, before walking away, to a chair at the end of the compartment.

As ranking Draka here, I’ve noticed how the others respond to her. There’s definitely respect; some admiration, a little fear occasionally. She seems to run a tight ship, command-wise, with the others but they respond well to it. She has a larger zone of personal space around her, I think, as I watch her settling back into her chair, which stretches out as a couch at her mental command. The other drakensis don’t interfere with her that way, and it sort of goes with her position, as well as her age and experience level.

The baby begins to gnaw, apparently full but enjoying himself, and I gasp a little. Those gums, man alive, kiddo… I like everything attached, thank you very much, Alois Ingolfsson. I grin down at him, and then slowly, remembering we’re operating in lighter gravity conditions than either of the two of us are used to, I put him up on my shoulder and start patting. He snuggles against me, purring slightly, and then burps. I take him down, and he whines a little; I shush him, wipe his mouth, and then begin to rock him, gently, rhythmically.

Softly, I hum a song Mamaw used to sing, and I watch Alois’ bright blue eyes grow sleepy. “Look how the wind carries the seed, see how the soil supplies what it needs, the rain falls, the sun shines, and a flower breaks free… and it all works together… oh, why can’t we?” He fights it, eyes blinking, fists waving in the air; Alois tries to grab his toes, anything to keep himself occupied, and I smile down at him.

“And I have seen children, at play in the park… skin shades of ivory, red, yellow and dark… Well, my eyes saw colors their little hearts did not see… they were playing together, oh , why can’t we?” Alois whimpers a little, wrinkling his brow as he feels sleep creeping up on him, and I keep rocking him in my arms, safe and secure, with a full tummy.

“I had a dream, about a lion and a lamb… they were layin’ together, and there was peace in the land… and swords became plowshares, ‘cause there were no enemies… and I woke up and wondered, God, why can’t we?” Humming the rest, slowly, in time with the motions of my arms, I watch the baby drift off into sleep, his body relaxing with a limp finality and a tiny purr. I rock him for a few more minutes, to make sure, and then slowly stand up to put him in his baby bed.

As I stand up, I’m aware of someone’s eyes on me. I look up to see Gwen watching me; her leaf green eyes are emeralds in her café-au-lait tanned face, and she’s smiling. I smile back, and cover the baby with a light blanket, and then fasten his restraint system into place, just in case. Her hands touch my back, and I stand up, leaning against their warmth.

“I thought you were busy… did my lullaby bother you, Muhmis?”

She nuzzles against me, and her hands slide from my back to my front, caressing, stroking. I feel her kisses, and then a little nip as her lips find an earlobe, and I shiver. Her hands are touching my breasts, firmly, knowingly… kneading, plucking, tugging slightly, and she chuckles deeply at my sharp intake of breath, my whine of desire. I feel her thighs against the backs of my legs, the strength in those arms, and groan softly, very softly, as she runs one hand down my stomach, down further…

“Muhmis…”

The hatch’s wide open, I know, and I blush furiously, stiffening a little in her arms. Gwen lifts her head from my neck, and laughs quietly, a deep bronze ripple that creates cascades of delightful shivers that pour down my spine. The hatch sighs shut, and the compartment grows darker; Muhmis’ hands on me grow more insistent, more direct. I lean against her, soaking up her body heat, her scent, her… oh, god, I want, I think, I want…

My knees are growing weak, though, by the time she finally cradles me in her arms and walks us over to the couch. She’s purring now, a sound coming from deep within her chest. All I can see or hear or feel is her; part of it’s the pheromones, I think dazedly, but part of it’s just us two… I reach up and put my hands at the back of her neck, pulling her down for a long kiss as she begins to undress me. Soon, she’s kneeling astride me, her thumbs stroking along my cheekbones, my jaw.

Smiling down at my panting hunger, my need, she moves her hips slightly, murmuring, “Ready to play pony for Muhmis, pretty-girl? Hmm? Ah… yesssss… like that, mmmhhh…”

**  
Waking from the doze I was in, for a moment, I think I’m at the Household… but the smooth grey walls of the spacecraft realign my senses. I stretch, feeling relaxed and a little sore, and the blanket nearly falls off me. A Draka turns her head, and grins at me.

There’s a group of them around Gwen; in various seats, sitting cross legged or reclining at their leopard-like ease on the deck. Charles, the one from the War Directorate I saw earlier, is collecting some chips from the others, and putting them in a slim carrying case on his belt. “That’s it, then, Planetary Archon Ingolfsson, everyone’s had the download, and assimilation of the relevant datasets. As well as our projections…”

His voice trails off abruptly as he sees my open eyes. He glances over to Gwen, his look saying volumes. She nods, and he blinks once, then continues smoothly:

“Our projections as to their defense situation, and their probable demands. The Archon has also asked me to make sure there aren’t any, well, last-minute questions concerning our negotiation strategies we’ll be bringing to bear on the Samothracians…”

I wrap the blanket tightly around me, my blush probably reaching my toes (I don’t look). When I start to stand up, Gwen’s voice speaks into my head:

Where’re you going, my dear little pretty-girl?

Um, Muhmis… this is, well, a Draka meeting, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I get the hell out of Dodge?

What? If that means should you leave, the answer’s no. You’re my personal saafn, my Prime Counselor, and you’ll be at my side the entire negotiation session. Unless you need to visit the head, come over here and sit by my feet, Erin.

I slowly get up and walk over to where she’s sitting, reclining at her ease in one of the chairs. I sit down at her feet, and lean my head against one of them. She moves it slightly, in a gentle caress, and I relax, a little. The other Draka smile, seeing my obedience, but Charles the Paperwork Man, as I’ve mentally christened him, looks down at his feet. He’s uncomfortable with me, a human, being here as they get ready to discuss what they’ll say to the Samothracians, I think, and wince, inwardly. 

Gwen clears her throat in a low growl, and the talking stops, almost instantly. Everyone looks over or up to her, and I wait for her to begin.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter 15

The base on Titan is huge, even though it’s only been in existence for less than a year. I walk through the hydroponics section, enjoying the green of the shrubby little trees and the waving fields of rice. Water glints under the rice plants, slowly circulating. There’s a rich planty sort of smell here; nothing bad, but not like anything I’ve ever smelled, either. Maybe a greenhouse on steroids, I think, smiling to myself. It’s a relief to be away from the others, even Muhmis, for a little bit.

I think back over the initial meeting; even through all its formality, an aura of barely restrained violence seemed to pulse. It made me shiver then, and it makes me shiver now. I never knew people could hate each other so much, I wonder, but the Draka and the Samothracians sure as hell do. Their hate seems different, though; each has its own timbre, its own peculiar tang. The Draka seem cold, predatory, calculating; I can see why the Alliance, back on the Prime Line, in their history, nicknamed them “snakes”. Gwen looked positively… frightening… when she was calmly discussing the terms of discussion, I remember. Her eyes were cold, glittering pools of green, and her aristocratic face was controlled, but there was also an air of calculating rage on it. I’d purely hate to be on the other side of the table, facing that with my little ole list of demands and what-not.

The Samothracians, in contrast, seem furious, but barely under control. Their anger’s hot, not cold and calculating, I think, except for that one guy, General Smythe. He’s cool. He’s the one to watch, I bet. He was as calm, cool, and collected as Muhmis was, and she noticed that right away. 

The air scrubbers in the room take care of any pheromones, but I’d love to see what the readings would’ve been, somehow. In the red, I know… the other Samos don’t seem as sophisticated as Smythe, I think, wondering. They’re all wrapped up in their hatred of their hereditary foes; he wants to see the Draka destroyed, pure and simple. Hatred is something he may feel down deep inside, but he’s not letting it cloud his vision for an instant.

I sit down by a row of peas, strung up on wire mesh for optimal growth. There’s a little bench here, and from your seat, you can see the waterfall over on the other side of the dome. It seems to be miles away, but really isn’t that far off. It’s quite a sight, though. A few flutterbys zoom past, twittering, and I smile. It makes me think of my trips elsewhere, and those are good memories, full of friends. Peter, Ruthann, the others…

“Oh!”

“What!?” I jump a little, opening my eyes to see the surprised face of a young Samothracian woman. She’s just turned the corner, around the sheltering wall of peas, and had apparently meant to sit down here. I grin, and wave a hand. “Just us humans, and I don’t bite; the bench’s wide enough for both of us, Miss.”

“That’s all right, really.” Her voice sounds cold, and she looks me up and down, slowly. Her blonde hair is cut short, in a sort of bowl-cut, I think; it’d look better a teensy bit longer. She’s wearing the navy blue tunic and slacks of the U.S.S. space force, but I don’t know the rank tab on her sleeve.

“Um, I’m Sera Erin d’Ingolfsson. Glad to meet you, ah, Miss…”

“Richardson. Midshipman Emily Richardson.”

“Oh! A middie, are you? Do they have an Academy on Samothrace, like we have on Earth?”

Midshipman Richardson’s eyes widen a little. “You mean they let you have a military school?”

“Yeah. We still maintain the Naval Academy, West Point, Sandhurst, and a couple of others. The graduates can either go into the Space Force or the World Constabulatory. Never have a lack of applicants, either, despite all the petty b.s. hazing they still do. I always thought that was kinda silly, myself.”

“Well, you’re not military, are you?” She looks a little smug, but she’s interested, now.

“As a matter of fact, I am. I was in the United States Navy for five years, from age 18 to when I was 23. I got up to the rank of petty officer; would’ve gone for chief, if I’d stayed in.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t think you looked, well, like a military person. And I didn’t know they still allowed that…”

“Makes sense, if you think about it. Heck of a lot easier if you can siphon off all that youthful energy to do something like terraforming, or exploration, or world police duty, rather than having it sitting around getting frustrated. No, I don’t look military any more, I don’t guess.” I look down from the corners of my eyes at my longish dark blonde hair, with its few streaks of grey in it, and smile. “That was years ago, anyway.”

“What was your specialty?”

“Computers, information systems. My last posting was in the command and control center of an aircraft carrier, the USS Nimitz. She went down in the Gulf, years ago, after a suicide attack by Hamas.”

“Hamas?” The young woman frowns, trying to understand. “The Gulf?”

“Hamas is…er, was… a militant religious group who was trying to get rid of all Western influences, basically, in the Middle East. They were fanatics. They attacked the ship with rockets, mounted on wooden boats they’d rowed out to meet us in. The Gulf…it’s an area of ocean near Saudi Arabia, the Arabian Peninsula… do you know the geography I’m talking about?”

“Not some of the names, but I think I know basically where it is. So your ship went down? Were you on her?” She sits down, on the edge of the bench, as far as she can get from me, but still sitting down.

“Yes, and yes. Not many of us got off with our lives. The deck was loaded with fully fueled and armed planes, and it turned into an inferno. It was pretty… ugly.” I look down at my hands, remembering.

“I’m sorry… I had no idea you were a Navy veteran. Wow.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I guess you found this seat first, huh? You acted like you were all set to have a seat when you zoomed around the corner there…”

“Yes. I…” Emily pauses. “I found it earlier today, and thought it would be a lovely place to sit and think for awhile.”

“Gee, that’s what I was just thinking, myself. I guess we’re not that different, at least that way, eh?” I smile at her.

“We’re quite different, thank you.”

“Oh, come on. We have the same genetic makeup.”

“That’s the only thing we’ve in common, Sera d’Ingolfsson.”

I look over at her, my eyes narrowing slightly. “You say my name like you don’t like me much, pilgrim. I might just take offense to that…” My voice parodies a famous actor, but I doubt if she gets it. I hope she gets the idea it’s a joke.

Her face freezes for a moment, eyes widening. “I hope I haven’t offended you, Sera. I know who your…” she makes a moue of distaste, “owner is.”

“Sorry, it was a joke. I was trying to sound like John Wayne. Ever heard of him?”

“No… but you did sound like Jason Waggoner, for a minute. My grandfather watches these ancient movies with him in them, and I think they’re as boring as mud.”

“Okay, you think I’m boring…”

“No, no!” Emily actually laughs, then catches herself. “No, Sera, I didn’t say that!”

“Hey, Middie, can we just sort of put down the swords and talk for a minute, person to person? You’re the first Samothracian I’ve met who didn’t act like they wanted to put me on a spit and barbecue me.”

“That’s something a Snake would do, not a Samothracian.” Her eyes have gone cold again, I think. Hell.

“Please?”

Emily Richardson shifts uncomfortably in her seat, eyes looking around briefly before she looks back into my face. She sighs, and nods her head slowly. “All right, swords down for a minute. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Peas? No, they’re probably more boring than mud.” I grin. “How about you just tell me about yourself, and how you came to be here, and what you think’s gonna happen? I’ll do the same for you. Sound like a deal?”

“All right. I’m, well, you know my name already… I’m sixteen, almost seventeen. I’ve been in the Academy for three years now. Almost ready to graduate. I want to specialize in medicine, and maybe go on to school for it. I’m already a Certified LifeSaver. I’d like to work on the Colonization Committee, too. Go places, see things. I have a little brother and three older ones. There’s another on the way, but we don’t know, of course, if it’s a boy or a girl. My parents live in Washington Province; my mother’s here, as an assistant to General Smythe. We’ve a big farm back home; Papa’s running it while Momma does her military duties. We raise mostly soya. I think farming’s hard work and boring. That’s why I begged to go to the Academy in Jefferson.”

“Okay… I’m from Savannah, Georgia, in the United States of America. I’m 38 years old; I have two children, Patrick, who’s 17, and May, who’s 14. I’ve also had two children for Muhmis, ah, Archon Gwendolyn Ingolfsson, Ariadne and Alois. He’s here, with us; he’s two months old. Ariadne is 14.” 

“You have to have children for them? It’s true? I thought it was just a rumor…” She scrunches up her pretty face into a grimace. “That’s…”

“That’s life. It’s okay. No, it’s not a rumor. In fact, in our culture now, and in the Prime Line culture, it’s considered quite an honor. Draka babies are easier to have than human ones, that’s for sure.”

“Why?”

“Well, they’re an easier pregnancy all the way around, as long as you remember to take your vitamin and protein supplements; the actual birth is easier, since drakensis infants have a smaller head to begin with. They’re programmed, genetically, to have a major growth spurt after birth, not while they’re in the womb…”

“That’s blasphemy…” she gasps, her face reddening.

“What is?” I’m confused.

“Programming things like that… like what the Snakes do. Have they… altered… you, too?”

“Genetic engineering’s a form of blasphemy?”

“Yes, of course it is. You have read our Charter of Rights and Beliefs, haven’t you?” Emily sounds rather prim and proper now, like she had at first.

“Yes… I have. I don’t understand why you think genetic engineering’s blasphemy but doing cybernetic alterations on the human body isn’t…” I say. “And yes and no to your other question. I’ve been given an indefinite life span, for services rendered to the State, and they’ve done stuff like wiping out genetic disorders, things like that. But we’re still homo sapiens, not homo servus.”

“An indefinite life span? You’re immortal, like them?”

“Not immortal, just unaging. When I decide, and when Muhmis decides, I’ve gotten old enough, they’ll trigger the gene complex, and I’ll revert, age-wise, to about my mid-twenties. That’s where I’ll stay, indefinitely. I can still die, you know.”

“Oh. Did you have any choice in the matter? Do you have any choice about having their babies?”

“Yes, and yes, again. She asked me, both times.”

“Both?”

“Well, let’s see… how can I put this? She asked me if I’d think about having the first baby, and I asked to be her brooder the second time. Muhmis told me I had one life span beyond mine, once the Arrival was complete, and then some stuff happened, and I was awarded an indefinite life span by the Prime Line Archon. He’s kinda scary, I think.”

“They all are… a brooder? That’s what they call it? Oh, Lord Above. That’s so…” she shudders. “That’s alien. Kind of, well, disgusting, if you don’t mind me speaking my mind. But I guess you can’t really do much of that, yourself.”

“Much of speaking my mind? Girl, you should hear me sometimes. They’re not these monsters you have in your mind, at least not all of them. Some are…” I think of Felice Vashon, in particular. “But most aren’t so bad. Things are less, well, restricted, on Earth/2. It’s not as much bowing and scraping as I’ve read things used to be, back in the old days. As long as you’re reasonably polite, respectful, you can say what you want to say. They can usually tell what you’re feeling, anyway.”

“So you can speak your mind?”

“Mostly. Sometimes it’s not so wise, politically speaking, but everyone runs into that. Like you—you wouldn’t tell your company commander you think he or she’s a dingbat, would you? Even if you thought it?”

“A dingbat?” Emily laughs. “What’s that? Another one of these blas—I mean, one of these sort of creatures?” She waves a slender hand at a flutterby, who’s been hovering nearby, in the hopes of a free lunch. It pulses closer, thinking she’s got something in her hand, and she tenses, pulling her hand out of the air quickly. Disappointed, the flutterby whistles mournfully and slowly flaps off.

“No… a dingbat is a colloquial term for a dumb person, a real, well, a person with no good sense. And you don’t have to be afraid of the flutterby—he or she won’t hurt you.”

She shakes her head, watching it. “They’re not natural. They’re evil.”

“Evil? It’s not like it flies around at night, sucking blood from the pearly white necks of virgins, honey,” I laugh. And then immediately wish I could eat my words instead of saying them, as she starts to her feet, making some sort of warding sign. “Whoah, whoah, nellie… hang on a second, there. Don’t throw me to the fires yet, old girl…”

“But you’re already…” the young middie stops, turning crimson. She tugs at her high collar, and looks vastly embarrassed.

“I’m already what?”

“You’re one of their servants, Sera. You chose to serve them. That means you’re a servant of evil, or at least that’s what Minister Kearns tells us. That’s what the Holy Writings say, too. I really shouldn’t even be talking to you; if anyone caught us, I’d be caned.”

“Caned? That’s barbaric…” I wince. “As for me… I don’t see myself as a servant of evil. I am a servant, and it was a choice, but when you’re faced with life and service or death, it’s not much of a choice. But I did make it. I don’t regret it. I do regret having to be a serf. I’d rather be free, see the world free, but that’s not the way things are right now. I have to keep on keeping on. Like the Navy says, Carry on!”

“You don’t regret serving her? Them? The Snakes?” Her voice rises and I stand up next to her.

“Honey, please, calm down. Lower your voice, or we’ll have company.” Already the remaining flutterbys have flickered away, down the sphere of the dome towards the waterfall. If they’ve noticed, I think, security sure as hell has. “Please?”

“But… but… you seem so nice, and I talked with you, but you’re damned to the eternal fires, you’re a servant of evil, I mean, how can you be nice and evil at the same time? This is… you’re leading me into perdition, just thinking like this.” She’s trembling, her hands twisting together, beads of sweat glistening on her upper lip. All the color’s drained from her face, too.

“Hey, I think I am nice, and I don’t think I’m evil. Think about letting God be the judge, honey, not you or the religious leaders you have… if there is a god,” I say, thinking out loud. She gasps, and makes the sign again, and starts to back away. Oh, Erin, you’ve screwed things up royally, you idiot swabbie, I think angrily to myself. She’s a nice kid, but she’s scared half to death.

“Emily, please… calm down, sugar,” I say softly, and put out my hand, gently gripping one shaking shoulder. She jumps like I’ve just electrocuted her, and pulls away sharply. Too sharply; she tumbles backward against the bench, losing her balance. Her reflexes are almost as fast as May’s or even Adriane’s, but not fast enough. Arms windmilling helplessly, she plunges backward into the peas.

The whole line of them shakes and twangs, and some of the plants fall off, whacking us both on the head and shoulders. Her mouth opens and closes, and then she spits out a pea pod. At that point, my fear changes to merriment, and I can’t help but laugh, as I extend a hand to her.

“Come on, I won’t contaminate you, and you need a hand out of those peas, girl!”

She looks around, blushing, and then takes my hand, pulling herself to her feet. We stand near each other, my hand still on hers, as we laugh helplessly. Pea pods and leaves still patter down around our feet, and there’s a human-sized indentation in the row.

“Oh, what will people say?” Emily giggles, brushing a leaf off my head.

“Two peas in a pod, like my Mamaw, my grandmother, used to say, child.” I grin back, my sides aching from laughing so hard.

“Get your hands off my daughter, you servant of abomination!”

We both jump at the screech, and turn around to see a woman standing there, livid with rage.

“What?” I say, rather inanely. It’s not every day someone calls me a servant of abomination, you know, I think to myself. Who the hell is this?

“Mother, I—”

“Be quiet in the presence of your elder. Now, get away from that,” the woman gestures angrily at me, “before it corrupts you any further.”

“Excuse me?” Anger begins to glow red behind my eyes, and thud in my ears. “It? That? What planet are you from, chick?”

“I’ll tell you this once, and once only. If you don’t get away from my daughter, I’ll hurt you, as the Lord Above is my witness.”

“Am I supposed to clap and say amen at that, sister?” I move, though, but toward the angry woman.

“Please, don’t… Sera Erin was just helping me stand up, that’s all, Mother, please…”

I see the woman’s arm bunch, and have enough time to register that in my conscious memory, and then I’m sitting on the deck, my head ringing. Blood trickles slowly down my lips and chin from my nose, and my head hurts. 

“Trying to corrupt my daughter’s morals… you’ve been well-trained by your Mistress, haven’t you, scum?” A foot flashes into sight, and then I’m on my side, trying to breathe. This isn’t good, I think. Not good at all. Time to call the cavalry in…

Muhmis… please. A Samothracian fanatic mother is kicking me, in the hydroponics section, please, help… My message is cut off short by another explosion of lights and pain in my head, and from very far away I can hear Emily Richardson yelling at her mother to stop right now. I hope so, I think hazily. That would be very nice, indeed. I have a headache…

Erin? Erin? We’re coming…

My head snaps up at Muhmis’ voice, and Mother from Hell tries to kick it off my shoulders. She’s stopped cold, though, by her daughter’s precisely calculated punch. A body thuds to the deck next to me, and I look into the stunned face of the woman, whose eyes slowly roll back into her head. She slumps, unconscious, next to me, and I try to sit up.

Emily tugs me to a sitting position. “Oh, Mighty Lord, Holy One, I’m sorry… she’s always been kinda, well, strict… and now I’m in for it, truly. Oh, dear… I’ve hit my own mother, to save a Draka serf? Oh, Lord, Lord, save me… oh, God, her baby, what’ve I done??” The young woman sits back on her haunches, and buries her face in her hands, shaking with sobs.

Gahhh… if only those damn bells and rockets would stop going off… I spit blood out onto the deck, and then feel guilty, since some serf’s gonna have to clean it all up. I try to stand up, and merely end up crawling on my hands and knees to the bench. I hoist myself up, slowly, painfully, and look around. From one end of the hydro section, five Draka are hurtling towards us; from the other end of the compartment, three Samothracians are coming along like freight trains. I sure as hell don’t want to be in the middle when they hit, I think. Got to stop those trains…

“Stop! Halt!” I yell, jumping to my feet, swaying a little. Both groups, who’ve reached us, suddenly stop. “Thank you,” I say, sinking down to the bench again.

Gwen growls, a deep, steady, frightening roar. She steps over the body of the unconscious woman and reaches out for Emily.

“Touch her and I’ll…”

“You’ll what, Samo?” Muhmis spits out coldly, her hand still reaching. The young Samothracian makes a gesture with his hand, and suddenly there’s a flurry of movement. Two Draka have pinned him to the floor, and the young man’s companions move in for the fight of their lives.

“Goddammit! Stop it! My head hurts!” I bellow. Everyone turns to look at me, and movement is frozen in the violent tableau before my eyes. “Muhmis, please. Please. Leave her alone. Leave Emily alone. She coldcocked her mother to save me from getting my head kicked off my shoulders. She’s not the problem here…” I sway, unsteady, on my feet, the world spinning on its own little odd axis in front of me.

“Erin…” Gwen says, still growling. But she lowers her hand, and walks past the livid midshipman to me. She cups my head, gently, so gently, in the hand that had been about to kill someone, and looks into my eyes. “You’re concussed. Oh, sweet, sit down here, now…” 

Her voice hardens. “Let that fool up. Take his weapon, though. Call for General Smythe, priority. And a medteam, for Erin.”

“Immediately, Archon,” says one of the young Draka, jerking the stunned and angry Samothracian boy to his feet. “Security for this?”

“No, leave him for Smythe. You two others, over here. Next to the Midshipman, now. Or I won’t take responsibility for what happens to you.” The two, a young man and an even younger-looking woman, move over to stand by Emily Richardson, who’s on her feet, glaring at Gwen.

I let my head rest in the cup of Gwen’s large, strong hand; the bells, whistles and what-not are slowly diminishing, but a wave of nausea creeps over me. I feel miserable. Hell, we were laughing, and talking, and managing to communicate, and now all this crap, I think to myself, and sigh softly.

Muhmis squats down next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders, comforting me. “Here now, my saafn, it’s all right, Muhmis’ here. It’s all right… the medteam’s on its way, won’t be long, Erin, my sweet…”

I feel her transducer’s presence, as she downloads the scenes from mine; she snarls again, more territorial rage than anything, and strokes my hair, avoiding the two large lumps on my head gently. 

I’m so sorry, Muhmis, I never meant to cause an incident… please, please forgive me, Muhmis.

You didn’t cause it; I’m not upset with you at all. Just concerned for you. It’s going to be all right, Erin. We’ve stopped it before things got… well, irreversible. Thanks for your display of human command voice. There’s a hint of humor there, too.

Oh, Muhmis… we were actually talking, and relating, and laughing… she fell into the peas, and it was funny, oh my head hurts… Muhmis, I’m scared, it hurts…Gwen?

The last thing I really remember is Gwen’s voice, her true voice, calling my name as the lights seem to contract into one tiny, intense dot, then nothing…


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter 16

I’m nursing the Mother of All Headaches, but still plugging along, I think, somehow. The negotiations have to go on, no matter what. That’s what we’re here for. I pull my tunic over my head, and smooth it down in front; Rosta sighs and tugs it straight in the back, and hands me my dark slacks. I slip them on, and wobble for a moment, trying to balance. That’s still off, I realize, and I’m glad, for a moment, that Rosta’s there, playing nanny for two now. She catches my arm, balancing me, and I finish stepping into the pants, with a blush. I hate being helped all the time like this…

“Your balance will come back, Muhmis said, so stop blushing and let me do something with that hair of yours. I don’t know why in the universe you don’t let me colorize it; the natural blonde in it’s so pretty, Sera Erin, and the grey just makes you look old. Older… um, it’s not so bad, though, really…,” she amends, quickly, and begins running the brush over my tousled mop.

I realize with a start that I had growled slightly at her. My god, what was that? I’m no dang Draka, goin’ around growling at folks, I think to myself. I catch myself frowning in the full-length mirror in front of me, and look at the reflection, trying to settle down inside. Looking back is a woman in her mid to late thirties, having her hair brushed by a beautiful young woman whose skin is the russet glow of a peach in late summer. The woman looking back at me has hazel eyes, and they look… tired, worried. I notice for the first time the lines by my eyes, my mouth. Didn’t know they were getting so distinct, I think. Maybe it’s about time to ask Muhmis… no. Not yet. Don’t want to take that step yet, not right now. Triggering the rejuve process is one hell of a big step, I muse, as Rosta deftly ties my shoulder-length hair in a neat twist, with a black silk ribbon interwoven.

“Sorry I’ve been so touchy today, Rosta. It’s nothing personal, believe me.”

“Oh, I know. Glitch protect us, but the sheer nerve of that primitive, attacking you like that. How our Overlords stand to talk with them over a table like they are is completely beyond me. The further apart we are, the better, I say. Samothracians, yecchh!” She makes a face at me in the mirror, then hugs me impulsively. “I was so frightened you were seriously hurt, Erin… I was scared for you.”

“It’s all right now. Just a bad headache. That’ll go away, given some time. The dociline dose earlier this morning seemed to help.”

“I’ll get you another, then…”

I turn and smile slowly. “No, no more of that stuff. I’ll be fine, and I need to be aware, a bit, if I’m serving Muhmis today… thanks, though.”

I slip into my tooled leather boots, enjoying their softness. As I take a look around, missing something, Muhmis comes into the compartment, wearing her semiformal blacks again. “Ready to go, Erin, or would you like a day off? Andri could download the files necessary from you, and work for me today, if you don’t feel up to it.”

“No, Muhmis, I’m okay. I reviewed all the new files you sent me, already, this morning, so I’m ready to rock and roll. Well…” I wince slightly. “Maybe a slow waltz would be more my speed today, but I’m prepared to serve you in the Negotiation Room. Truly…” I look up into her leaf-green eyes, and see approval, some pride, even. Or maybe I’m just imagining things, a voice whispers in the back of my mind. Are you seeing things that aren’t there?

Something’s bugging me, and I can’t remember what it is… I frown again, and look distractedly around the small room; Rosta stops making the bed and walks over to me, a quizzical expression on her face. “What’s wrong, Sera Erin?”

“What are you looking for, sweetlin’? We need to go, if you’re going with me.” Gwen puts her arm around my shoulders and hugs me gently, and I relax into her embrace for a moment. That brings it to mind, somehow: my necklace, the one she gave me years ago. That’s what I’m missing. I always wear it, or try to.

“My necklace, Rosta. Where’d I put it?”

“Oh, it’s over here. I took it off you yesterday, when they brought you here from the medclinic. Here it is…” She hurries over, the gold glinting in her hand, and fastens it around my neck for me as Muhmis holds my braid up. “There, now you’re all ready. Please don’t let any more Samos stomp you today, my Sera…”

“Not if I can help it!” I laugh, giving her a quick hug and kiss. The dizziness comes back, though, and Gwen steadies me.

“Still having balance problems? We’ll stop by the medclinic during the lunch break, darlin’, and have them run another scan. Are you sure you feel ready for this? This is important, Erin. I can’t take a break if you pass out on me or something…” Her voice is concerned, but there’s a gentle undertone to it. She knows me well enough after all these years to know I’ll push myself as hard or harder than most folks, to get the job done right.

Like Jennifer, I think, suddenly. She just pushed a little too hard, and paid the price. I hope she’s okay; if she wasn’t, we’d have heard by now. “I’m okay, Muhmis, and I know how important these sessions are, and how important your role in them is. I won’t embarrass you today, I promise. I’m fine. Just wobbly every once in a while. Nothing major. More like a hangover from hell.”

“Well…” Muhmis sounds somewhat reluctant, but she knows how good I am doing information searches and retrievals, and how much I’ve assimilated in the last few weeks to be her assistant here. “All right, my saafn. Let’s go. Medclinic for lunch…”

“Mmhh… that sounds delicious,” I say sarcastically, and she pats me lightly on the fanny as we walk out the door.

“I see you’re still spicy, my pretty-girl. Glad that didn’t get ‘stomped’ out of you,” Gwen says with a smile. Then her face becomes all business, and I hurry to keep up with her long-legged stride as we go towards the conference room.

**  
I wake in the night, cold and sweaty, my heart thudding in my chest. The nightmare is still with me when I close my eyes, so I sit up, and hug the blanket to my naked body, relishing the warmth. The room’s dark, but I can see the outline of the hatchway, illuminated by a thin strip of glow light. For emergencies, I guess. Hell, if there was one in the Dome, by the time you woke up and figured it out, it’d probably be too late to do anything, anyway. If one of these critters gives way, it’s to an antimatter bomb or something like that, so massive you’d probably wake up in Hell first… I shiver.

Great thoughts to be thinking, genius, after that damn nightmare, I silently scold myself. I hear Rosta’s steady, quiet breathing from the bunk opposite mine, and control my own breathing with an effort. I’m glad my scream was only in the dream, I think, or she’d be prying herself loose from the overhead right now. Probably fuss at me, too. She’s a little sweetheart, but she can get fussy at times. I realize I’m still shivering, despite the blanket, and quietly, slowly get up to find my tossed-off tunic and pants.

Even putting them on doesn’t help, and I sit on the edge of the bed, yearning for something. I could always wake Rosta up, and she’d be happy to… no. That’s not what I want. Friendly, jovial sex with my servus pal ain’t it. Well, then, rocket scientist, what is it? I rock myself back and forth, thinking things over. Gwen’s busy, with Andri, and her planning, I’m sure. I don’t want to intrude. But I… I push the thought away roughly. I don’t need anyone. I’m here, I can manage, I can carry on. But the yearning, the need, pushes back savagely, and tears well up in my eyes. It’s not fair, I can’t help it, I need her, her strength, her perspective… her centeredness. I hate needing people. Once I do… then…

I find myself walking silently down the corridor, past the other servus compartments, following the red stripe along the wall until it turns gold, indicating Citizen quarters. Several minutes later I’m standing outside her quarters, shifting from bare foot to bare foot. Should I buzz? Should I go? This is stupid, I should just go back to bed, curl up with a vidchip or something if I can’t sleep, and—

The hatch dials open, and Andri steps out, clad only in some skin-tight briefs and a huge, but tired, grin. “Erin!”

“Erin?” Gwen says, coming to the hatch, looking over his shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow. “I sent you to bed hours ago…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll go now… it was nothing, really… just, ah, couldn’t sleep…”

Andri smiles wickedly. “I’m sure Muhmis has a cure for that, pretty…”

I blush and turn to go, but Gwen reaches out, past the lithe, handsome servus and holds my hand. “Stay, and talk to me for a bit.” She turns to Andri and gives him a long, deep kiss. “Thank you for the fun. I’ll see you and Rosta for breakfast, darlin’. Good night…”

He replies with a kiss to the palm of her hand, and bows, then saunters down the corridor with a saucy thrust of the hips at me, and a grin. I smile back, tiredly, and look up at the Draka holding my hand. “I’m really sorry to bug you…”

“No, you’re not ‘bugging’ me at all. I know you’re upset. Come in and let’s talk. Fetch me a coffee and yourself something, if you want it.” She gives my hand a squeeze and walks over to the couch, moving clothes out of the way with a foot as she does so. The room smells of clean sweat, sex, and Andri’s perfume, I realize, so maybe she’s sated for a bit. I don’t really feel… I don’t know what I feel, I think to myself, as I pour her a coffee and bring it to her.

I hand it to her and wait. “Here, sit here with me, Erin,” she says, patting the couch next to her. I climb up, next to her, and pull my legs underneath me. I’ve crossed my arms before I realize what I’ve done. Now I’m too embarrassed to undo them, I think. Great…

“Why are you upset? The assault?”

“Mmmm… yes. I guess. I don’t know…” I shift uncomfortably under her direct, questioning look, and blink back sudden tears. Damn it, don’t start sniffling now, you bean-head, I say to myself.

“Ssssaaa… you’re not a ‘bean-head’, whatever that is. And I think it is the assault that’s upset you. Bad dream?”

“Yes, Muhmis.”

“One of those dreams, or just a bad one?”

I know she’s referring to the ‘seeing’ dreams I’ve had on occasion, and shake my head no. “It was just a dumb nightmare, and then I got cold, and I couldn’t sleep, and I ne—” I stop myself, biting my lip savagely. I won’t say it, I won’t…

Gwen puts the china cup and saucer down on a small table next to the couch, and the lights dim. I blink in surprise, and then feel her arms surround me, moving me with irresistible force onto her lap. I feel the muscles of her thighs, so hard, like marble, under my legs, and the firmness of her chest, the solidity of her, the warmth… tears don’t stop this time, even with biting my lip.

“Erin, my Erin… stop biting yourself. Really, stop. No more of that. If you need to cry, that’s fine. I’m here for you. Ssshhh…” She begins to rock me, slowly, gently. The tears roll down my face and I cry, silently, steadily, for several minutes. 

“I’m s-s-s-sorry, Mu-mu-muhmis,” I manage, after a few moments. She chuckles, and hands me a tissue. I wipe, then blow, and hiccup. Her chuckle turns to a purr, and she caresses me, rhythmically, up and down my back.

“No need to be sorry. You’re stressed, upset… I’m here to guide you, protect you. I wish I had done a better job of that yesterday.”

“You were there for me when I needed you, Muhmis.” I sigh and snuggle against her, the cold inside growing worse. The shakes come over me again, and I feel her grip tighten fractionally.

“What were you about to say, earlier, Erin?” Her voice is soft, but I hear, or sense, the harmonics of Command in them.

“I… um, it was… um…” I shift in her arms, trying to hide my face from her piercing green-eyed stare. She’s relentless, though, and turns my face up to hers. Her eyes seem to draw mine, and I’m unable to look away. “I was going to say… ah…oh, hell, Gwen, no… I can’t say it…”

“Say it.”

I whimper, trying to tug my head out of her hand. Her fingers squeeze, ever so slightly, and I stop, feeling the strength that could tear a human apart in her hands. My eyes are still locked to hers, though, and the moment seems to be frozen in time…

“Say it, my saafn.”

“You know what I was going to say, so can’t we just go on? Please?”

“No. Say it, Erin.”

“Please?” I whimper again, louder, and plead with my eyes. That usually works, when she’s not being very serious with me, but this time… it is serious, I think. This is another step we’re taking, and I have to take it now, there’s no going back… “Aw, Gwen…”

“Erin…”

The tone of her voice is a warning one, and her eyes are steady, direct. This is Muhmis, I realize, not just Gwen. This isn’t play time. “Muhmis… I was going to say…I need you.” The words come out as a tiny whisper, and my throat tightens. “But… but… I don’t want, I mean, I do, but if I say it… shit, I’ve already said it… now…”

“Now, what?” Gwen shakes my chin, lightly, and we look into each other’s eyes.

“Now…” I close my eyes, and whisper: “Now you’ll go away, like all the other people I’ve needed… oh, god, no… no… it’s not fair…”

“Darlin’, where would I go? I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again: you’re mine, until the day you die. You’ll be with me for centuries, with any luck. And that’s what it all boils down to: luck and skill. You’ll spend the rest of your time with me, at my side. You’re mine, Erin Kane d’Ingolfsson. And that means forever.” Her tone has warmed again, and she kisses me, lightly, on the lips.

“But…”

“Erin, everyone you’ve needed hasn’t gone away. Some have, but not voluntarily. You must come to terms with those losses, especially now that you’ve an unrestricted lifespan. You’ll lose people. I have. Friends, lovers, family… but you have to come to grips with it. Now. Look at the humans you have around you—Alice, Jennifer, Tom, Shawonda, Bret, the others—look at the servus, Yannan, Andri, Rosta—even Mawtah likes you, so you’ve got a kawtuh that cares. Not to mention the Draka: Alexandra, Ariadne, and Alois. Your Muhmis. Schalk, Tamarindus…”

“But…”

“You lost your grandparents. You lost your best friend from youth. You’ve lost Peter and Ruthann. But that doesn’t mean you lose everyone you need. It’s a normal thing to need. For both human and Draka, and servus, and kawtuh… all of us need others, Erin. Listen to me, now. Listen,” Gwen says, holding my head firmly in both hands. “I won’t go away. Or if I do, it won’t be voluntarily. If I do, you’ll go to Tamarindus. It’s in my will. You’re in my will. That makes you very unique and rare, as I think you are. But you need me, and I need you.”

“You…”

“Yes. I do. And believe me, that’s not an easy thing for me to say. But I know you’re hurting, and afraid, and you need to hear that. It’s the truth.”

“I am afraid… to tell you… I don’t know why. I wasn’t afraid to tell Alice…”

“You’re afraid because it’s a normal human reaction. You’re breaking to me, sweetlin’, on an entirely new level. It’s been so hard for you, harder than almost any other human I’ve ever known, but after you and I reach each stage, it just gets better. Deeper. You know that, too.”

I nod my head slowly. “Oh, god, Gwen… it’s not just that I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of them…”

“Who?”

“The Samothracians… jeezie petes, Gwen, if you’d seen her face, the hatred, the pure, intense, thoughtless hatred… I’ve never seen that before, that much. Not even on the faces of those three terrorists, or Stan Phillips. Why? Why? I don’t hate them! I’ve never done anything to a Samothracian. I barely know any, come to that. Why? She would’ve killed me if her daughter hadn’t knocked the hell out of her.”

“She hates you because… because you belong to me. You lead a life that she thinks is basically a sort of evil. A living evil, one she can focus all her fear and anger and guilt on, and absolve herself from it all by taking it out on you. Their state religion supports thinking like that. That’s one of their weaknesses, I think. Smythe doesn’t seem to have that blindness, so he’s much more dangerous. Much more. But I can deal with that, and with all of them, if I have to, to protect what’s mine.”

“But I’m not evil, Gwen…” I sob. “I chose life rather than death, but that doesn’t make me the antichrist…”

“No, of course it doesn’t.” I look up at her, to see if she’s being facetious, and her steady leaf-green eyes meet mine. “I’m not being humorous. I mean that. You’re not evil, no matter how you define that term, Erin. You’ve done so much good for so many, you don’t even realize all of what you’ve done. Or when you do, you always find a way to share the plaudits.”

“I got so scared, lying there on the deck, knowing she was going to…”

“Ssssaaa, little ‘un, it’s all over now. Ssshhhh… it’s done with. You’re safe now. Erin, my sweet Erin, it’s all right. I know you were frightened. I’ve taken steps, as has Smythe, to make sure no more incidents like that happen again. Period. That’s been taken care of, my pretty-girl. No more tears now, no more. It’s all done…” She cradles me and we sit like that for long moments, until my tears finally stop. Another tissue, and I’m better. 

Her head rests on mine, and I feel and hear the rapid thumping of her heart as my ear presses against her chest, the smooth curve of her breasts so inviting, so warm. I feel my pulse begin to speed up, and hear her purr turn deeper. Her hands keep stroking my back, delicately precise. Trying to calm myself down, and not get all fired up, I clear my throat.

“Silly of me, really, to be so upset about them hating me. I got Tom through all that before we left, and that’s one reason you took me over him. I guess maybe now you do want to substitute Andri for me as your assistant, don’t you?”

“Whatever would give you that idea? I certainly haven’t. No, I’ve no intention of substituting that sweet pretty-buck for you as my personal assistant, Erin. Your insights are too valuable. If we need to calm you down before the next session, if you’re that afraid of them, we’ll manage that medically. That’s not a problem, as far as I can see.”

She stands, lifting me smoothly as she does so. “Muhmis??”

“Time for bed, and a treat…”

“A treat, Gwen? What in the world are you ta—” She hushes me with a deep, hot kiss, and I shudder with delight. Muhmis walks us to her large, luxurious bunk, and lays me down gently.

“A treat, for a brave saafn of mine, who’s coming to terms with a new level between us. Who’s being honest with me about her fears. A pretty-girl I adore.” She strips, then undresses me quickly. Gwen slides into bed next to me, her leg slipping between my thighs, one arm under my head. The other rests across my chest, hand slowly stroking my full breasts. She kisses me again, and then looks into my eyes.

“Tell me how you’d like to be pleasured, Erin. Tonight’s your night to choose.”

“Uh…” I blush, and try to hide my face under her chin. “God, Gwen…”

“No, come on. Look at me, now. Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.”

Her thigh presses up, against me, and I groan softly with pleasure. “That’s fine…”

Gwen chuckles. “No… that’s not an answer, my pretty-girl. Tell Muhmis what you want. It’s all right. Tell me, sweet.”

It’s now or never… she’d probably never do this with me again, I think silently to myself, watching her face in the near-darkness, if I don’t tell her… I blush even more deeply, and begin to kiss the line of her neck, moving from collarbone to point of chin. “Muhmis…”

“Mmm-hmm?” Her hand is cupped around my left breast, kneading firmly, and I feel the wetness on her fingers, and shiver…

“Do you remember that afternoon on the yacht, by Andros? When I made a pass at you?” I whisper, crimson and trembling with desire. 

A whisper back: “Yes, I remember.”

“Muhmis…” my voice shakes. “Muhmis… my Gwen… I…I want you to take me like that. Like you did…”

“Hmmm…”

“Please?” I kiss her lips, raising up to reach her. She presses me to the bed, her mouth hot on mine, tongue delving, thrusting. Her thigh presses rhythmically, and I rise to each movement, on fire. “Oh, gods above, I want to feel you like that, Gwen. Take me, make me yours, please? Tonight, that’s what I want. I want… Muhmis, this pretty-girl wants to buck for you…” My voice breaks.

“Then that’s what you’ll have, my saafn, my pretty-girl. You’ll buck so well for Muhmis, like you always do… mmmhhh… yes, you will, won’t you?” Her hands grip me, and turn me over, onto my stomach, and she begins…

**   
I prop myself up on an elbow and smile down at Gwen’s relaxed face in the near-darkness she prefers in her bedroom. She can see just fine in it, but I have to work at seeing anything much at all. “Gwen?”

“Yes, ma douce?”

“Feel like talking?”

She stretches, muscles taut under her tanned skin, and smiles up whitely at me. “Meaning you need a rest?”

“Well…” After three solid hours of friskiness, yeah, lady, I need a rest, I think to myself. Anyone would, unless they happened to be a Draka powerhouse like you. “Yeah, if you don’t mind terribly…”

Her purr changes to a chuckle, and she sits up, brushing her long red hair behind her ears. “Ah, Erin, my pretty-girl… I’ve never taken it to, well, extremes, with you, now have I?”

“There was that time I passed out…”

“Well, once. I got a little carried away and forgot how long I had held you upside down. All right. Let’s talk for a bit, and maybe you’ll catch your breath…” A toe strokes down my thigh, and I squeak.

“Gwen!”

Still laughing, she bounds from the bed, returning after a momentary break for a call of nature, with a glass of brandy in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. She hands me the glass of wine, leaning over to kiss me; we stay that way for a long moment, and then she curls up in bed, against the head of the large bunk, eyes bright in the darkness.

“What would you like to talk about?”

I sip from the wine; it’s a white, sweet one, one she knew I’d like. “Um… well, I was sort of thinking about some things, and wondered what you would think about them, Gwen.”

The woman across from me, fingers laced behind her head, looks at me and smiles. “Yes?”

“Ah…” Where do I start? I had a list of questions all ready to ask her, and now they’ve all gone away, into hiding. Damn it! “Let’s see…” I sit up, pulling my legs underneath me and sitting on the bed cross-legged. I wrap the blanket around me for warmth, and try to concentrate.

“What are you nervous about, Erin?”

“Um, I’m not… it’s just that I have to get my brain back in gear, after you sort of, well… had me thinking about other things there for awhile.” I grin. “Okay. Here’s a question, a hypothetical. What if you had a choice—to go back in time or forward. Which would you choose, and why?”

“Hmm. I suppose you want a thoughtful answer, not a silly one.”

“Yeah. Here’s another: If you could be human for a day, would you? Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be human, not drakensis? And another: tell me a defining moment in your life.”

“Well, you’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” Gwen chuckles, and then leans back against the headboard, closing her eyes. “Which one do you want me to answer first?”

“Whichever one comes to mind with an answer, first, I guess.”

“Then do I get to ask you questions?”

“Yeah, Gwen.” One leaf-green eye slits open and she spots my huge grin. She tosses a pillow at me and then goes back to her relaxed position.

“Vixen…” A sigh. “Hmm… let me think for a moment. These are interesting questions.”

“Okay.” I take a sip of my wine and wait for Muhmis to start talking. The silence is friendly, companionable; it doesn’t feel awkward at all, I realize. This is a peaceful time for the two of us; they’re rare, and valuable. Especially now, during these negotiations and all. She’s a unique person, even for a Draka, I think, and smile.

**  
I sip my brandy, feeling relaxed and content. With Erin I can be myself… pleasant, to let down the barriers. And she is a marvelous mount.

“Forward in time, I think,” I say. “Effectively, I can go back in time – into a preserve, and so into the Pleistocene. And I have gone back in time, to Earth/2 – back and sideways, of course. Forward would be new and interesting… of course, I am going forward in time, day by day. With some luck, I’ll see the far future – so will you, my sweetlin’.” I run a hand down her flank. “We’ll see the millennia together.”

I pause. “Human for a day? That would be interesting. Yes – so long as I could be absolutely sure of switching back!”

The last question is the most difficult… “Defining moments? Plenty of them. Hmmm. Really realizing my mother was different… that I wasn’t the same type of creature as she was. That was a bit of a shock – I was about four. Hmmm… but to date, I’d say being thrown through here to Earth/2 and realizing how completely and utterly alone I was.”

I open my eyes again. “My turn. What were your defining moments?”

**  
“Hmm… knew this would come back around…” I grin. “Yours… thanks for sharing them with me, Gwen. It means a lot to me. Mine? Oh, I don’t know. Right off the top of my head…” I close my eyes and think for a moment. “Finding out that Mamaw and Papaw didn’t hit me like Mother and Father did. That was a moment when I realized I could survive, somehow. I remember getting Mamaw mad about something… what was it? Something dumb… oh, I had laughed at old Mrs. Gepper, down the road from us. I didn’t know that she had some sort of tic disorder, and I laughed out loud. Mamaw got really mad and that’s the first time I heard ‘there but for the grace of God’ thing.”

“When we went home, she went into their bedroom, and I had this awful, sinking feeling that she’d come out with Papaw’s belt. But when she came out, she apologized for yelling at me, which was a shock, and then she sat me down for a long, long talk, which was an even bigger shock. But she explained about Mrs. Gepper, and how you can really hurt someone by laughing at them; that what I did as a person really impacted other folks a lot. She taught me a lot that day.”

“Sounds like it.”

I open my eyes. “The two other moments I can think of that defined me are more recent. One’s the moment in the water, as the Nimitz sank, that I stopped being afraid of dying. I didn’t want to, at all, but it lost its fear for me. It was such a simple equation, too. Do this, and you might live; do that, and you’ll die, sure as hell’s hot. The other moment was in the cabin, up by Tahoe, with you.” I blush. “By the open doors.”

Gwen smiles slowly, and reaches out a hand to stroke my cheek. “What did that define for you?”

“How much I’m yours now. How that part of me copes.”

The woman across from me nods, still smiling. She cocks her head and looks at me closely for a second, and says, “Do you ever feel alone, Erin? Like you’re the only sentient being in the universe?”

“Sometimes. When I had the babies, the moment of having them, I felt distinct, separate, sort of looking in on my life from outside. When the Nimitz went down, and I heard all the screams, the moans, the prayers… and how they slowly drifted to silence… then I felt alone. Even though I was holding on to a raft full of people, shipmates, Peter… I was alone in the darkness.” I shiver, and take a deep drink of wine.

“What was it like for you, Gwen? When you realized you’d fallen down the rabbit hole like Alice? Was it the scariest thing you ever felt?”

“The scariest part for me was being disconnected from the Net, the information web. My transducer was useless for communicating with others, but at least it maintained its information storage capabilities. Being the only Draka in the Universe was… startling.”

“What’d you think about your Mom, when you realized you were a different kind of person than she was?”

“Different kind of creature…” Gwen says slowly. “Not that she was separate from me; I’d already figured that one out. But when I realized she was a different kind of being, a human, and I was drakensis, now; that was a defining moment for me. It made me realize that although she was my mother, I’d have to base my respect for her on her accomplishments, and her rank in our society, not just on her physical abilities.”

“Was it hard for your Mom, seeing you and your generation growing up, knowing that she was the last human Draka generation? I’d think it would be, at times.”

“Yes, I think so, too. She never really talked about it much, and rarely mentioned any themes like that in her poetry. ‘Unaging grace, never ending beauty/Fired by glory, conquering the heavens’ was as close a reference as she made, I do believe. By the time I was old enough to truly understand things her way, she was ready to let the younger generation ‘do their own thing’, as your people say.”

“Was she looking forward to being with, um, what’s her name, your biomom, ah…”

“Myfwany Venders. Being with her? Oh, in some sort of afterlife? No, we really don’t believe in all that, Erin. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. No heaven, no hell. Just life and not-life.”

“There’s no real Draka religion at all? How odd!” I sip more of my wine, watching Gwen’s face. She’s a little flushed with the brandy; it has a slight effect on her. Wine, on the other hand, is mere taste for a drakensis; they metabolize things so fast, I think, that wine’s like water. Hmm…

Gwen stretches her legs out in front of her, the muscles bunching clearly under her smooth, hairless skin. I itch to stroke those legs, feel their warmth, their power, moving under my hands, but restrain myself to a lecherous look. Grinning, Muhmis returns the look, and I blush deeply. Gwen goes on: “No, no real religion for the Race. I guess you could say our belief in our destiny is our religion. There were a few efforts to establish a religion for the Race, but it all petered out after the Final War. No need, I think. Or not much of one. The pagan revival attempt, back, oh, before my mother was born, just gave us some great ‘cuss words’, that’s all.”

“Cuss words, eh?”

“Bedamned Balding Baldur’s Balls is one I remember saying in front of my Tantie-ma, Marya, and getting a smack on the fanny…” Gwen laughs. “There were others. I’ve noticed over the centuries that even the greeting of the Race has changed, a bit, from ‘Service to the State, Glory to the Race’ to ‘Service, Glory’. It’s rare to hear the whole thing anymore. Shorthand, succinct; everyone knows what it means. The memory of the Race is a long one.”

“So you’d be human for a day if you were absolutely sure you could change back?”

“Yes, with that caveat.” She gestures with her free hand, and I curl up next to her, under her arm, and lean back against the backboard of the bunk. Her body heat washes over me, and seems to soothe me, and I sigh. “It would be interesting, Erin, to see what it’s like from your point of view.”

“You might not like it very much, Muhmis…”

“No, but it would help me understand humans better. Would you like to be a Draka for a day?”

“With the same rule as you had, yeah.”

Gwen’s eyes widen with surprise. “You mean you wouldn’t want to stay a drakensis? You’d voluntarily go back to being a human?”

I chuckle. “Oh, yeah. In a flash. I like being human. I’m not sure I’d like being a Draka.”

“Why ever not?” Gwen sounds intensely curious.

I think for a moment, organizing my thoughts. “Well, for one, I’m not sure I’d want to own anyone. Ever. And even if I got accepted as some oddball Draka who refused to own serfs, I’d still be in a society that did that. I don’t think I’d like that. Two, I’d be worried about all the duels and challenges you guys have all the time. That seems a waste of potential to me, and a bother. Three, I’d miss my creative side, the one I’m used to. It would be cool to be so powerful for a little bit, so I could do something like free climb a mountainside or stuff like that, or walk underwater for fifteen minutes at a time, or do the fancy flying you were doing on Mars… but in the end, I’d rather be human.”

“Truly?”

“Mmh-hmm!!”

“Interesting.” She puts her head on top of mine, an affectionate gesture, and I hear her purring begin, deep in her chest. “You’re very interesting, my sweet. Sometimes you surprise me when I least expect it.”

“I hope I’ll always be able to do that, even after centuries with you. That’s something we really haven’t talked about. I guess we should, huh?”

“Yes. I don’t want to force the issue, but it’s about time you thought seriously about having the sequence activated. It’s not painful, like a whole-organism makeover, or molecular armor growth. But I think you’d enjoy the benefits right away.”

“What about the costs, though? I’m not sure I’d enjoy those, Gwen.” I hand her my empty wine glass and she puts it on the bedside table, next to her similarly-empty brandy snifter. “I just don’t know, Muhmis…”

“Costs?”

I snuggle against her. “Costs like seeing friends age, and me not; it’d be like being a vampire or something. As long as I stay out of the sun, and get fresh blood…wuh-hah-hah-ha…” I make a fangy face at her, and she laughs out loud, her bronze-like voice ringing in the compartment.

“Erin, you are a silly little wench, sometimes.” Gwen leans down and kisses me, firmly.

“But I’m serious, Gwen…”

“I know you have reservations about it, and I want to do my best to reassure you about them. Most of your friends will probably receive several lifetimes in reward for their service to the State, so that issue won’t come up right away. You do realize that I’ve made the choice for you; I’ve just left it up to you as when to implement it. Do you understand the difference?”

“Yes, Muhmis.”

“That sounded a little… reluctant. Are you, still?” Her arm tightens around me, and her purring slows.

“It’s just…” I sigh deeply. “I feel like by activating it, I’ll become less than human. Different. I’m just not sure I’m ready to. I understand that you’re being your unique self in allowing me the choice of when to do it, and that you’ve already made the decision of whether or not to do it at all. I’m honored, too, that you think I’m that helpful to you.”

“ ‘My unique self’?” Muhmis chuckles. “I guess I am unique. I’m one of the oldest drakensis alive now. That alone makes me unique. I’m one of the very last to remember being brought up by humans, and having human parents.”

“Maybe that’s why you understand us better, Muhmis. At least you seem to. The others try, but sometimes you can see steam about to come out of their ears, when we do something completely human, but goofy, and they can’t figure out why we’re acting the way we are…. It must be frustrating for them.” I smile up into her aristocratic face, and I’m rewarded with a smile back.

“Like right now?”

I duck my head, burrowing against her side in embarrassment. “Yeah, Gwen,” I say, in a tiny voice.

“Ssssaaa, my sweetlin’… look here. Come on, look up here to Muhmis.” Her hand guides my head back up, and I look into her leaf-green, ancient, amused eyes.

“I’m sorry, Gwen, for being so wishy-washy on it…”

“No, nothing to be sorry for. But I do want you to decide, now, when we’re going to activate the sequence in your system. I’d prefer sooner than later, for personal as well as professional reasons. You and Jennifer have been working so hard, trying your best to keep up with my needs, and it’s catching up on you. You saw that yourself with Jenny, right before we left, to come to the negotiations.”

“I know. God, that scared me. I thought we’d lost her.”

“If you’d go ahead with the plan, that wouldn’t be a problem. Ever. So… what’s the decision, Erin?”

“Can I think about it and tell you at breakfast?”

“You’re not going to be doing much… thinking… in the next couple of hours, my pretty-girl,” Gwen says with a hungry smile. “Other things, yes, but thinking? Not much. I guarantee it.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Her hands are beginning to caress me, and I feel my body responding in no uncertain terms. She must be letting her control of her pheromones relax, I think, and raise my lips to hers. Long moments pass, her touchings so precise, so delicate, so arousing…

“Erin?”

I’m beginning to pant by now; it takes me a minute to realize she’s spoken. “Muhmis?”

“Decide.”

“Aarrrgh… now??”

“Yes.” Her voice is soft, silky, but there’s steel there, and I know it.

“Muhmis, I’d like to do the activation thing after Patrick gets back with Alexandra, on their midwinter breaks. Is that all right?”

“Yes.” Her kisses grow deeper, more passionate. “Since you’ve been such a good little pony, roll over and let’s see if I can make you whinny some more…that’s right, ah, yes. Yes, my pretty-girl. Ahh…”

“Uuuhhhhhnnnnn….”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 17

I crack my knuckles nervously, and one of the instructors looks up from his holoscreen. “d’Ingolfsson, what have I told you about that habit of yours? Three demerits.”

“Yes, Overlord.” I duck my head, and curse, silently, as I try to cram more astronavigation theory into my already-tired head. Two more demerits, and I’ll be stuck here the entire Midwinter break, working them off in the exercise rooms. That definitely doesn’t sound fun, I think. The problems seem to flow into each other as the hours-long class progresses, and when the instructors finally stand, I heave a sigh of relief.

The other students, mostly servus but with me and three kawtuh mixed among them, react similarly. I give the mental command to shut the holoscreen down that hovers in front of me, and stuff my hastily-scribbled notes into my leather satchel. Uhmis Gwen gave this to me, I remember; she gave a matching one to Alexandra. I wonder how she’s doing, I think; Alexandra’s in a staff and command college not two blocks from here in Archona.

“Got time for dinner, d’Ingolfsson?” The pure-white kawtuh purrs next to my ear, and I startle, much to Geerowl’s enjoyment. “Jumpy little human, aren’t ya?”

“Geerowl, I’ve told you before, no fair sneaking up on me. That’s no way to treat a friend. Who got the gum out of your whiskers? Who helped you redo your room three minutes before inspection, after it was totally trashed by the Seniors? Who helped you memorize the transducer schematics…”

“Okay, okay, Patrick… sorry. You’ve helped me out a lot, and I appreciate it. Now are you coming for dinner or not?” Geerowl grins, displaying rows of sharp, white teeth and a red, lolling tongue. “Steak and lobster tonight, since we’ve passed our midterms.”

“Hey, that sounds pretty damn good. Okay, count me in. Save me a place at the table; I’m going to go change clothes first. I’m still all sweaty from the gymnastics this afternoon.” I stand up, and run a hand through my short, short hair. It feels funny, still; I remember the awful shock of seeing myself with a shaved head after Inductions. I looked like Frankenstein, really gorpy, I think, but now maybe, just maybe, I look a little better. Wonder what Alexa looks like? She had to have the same haircut, she said, the last time I talked with her. Bet she looked hot, even with no hair. Damn, I’m horny for her.

“Yeah, you need to wash. Although I certainly don’t mind the way you smell, most of the time. Especially in the last couple of seconds…” Geerowl purrs, her ears perking hopefully. These kawtuh are hornier than Draka, if that’s possible, I think to myself, and smile demurely back.

“Why, whatever do you mean?” I give Geerowl’s hand a squeeze, and whisper, “Rain check, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers back. She picks up her notepad and waves her tail saucily at me as she walks out of the room. I’m alone, now; the other students have stampeded toward the dining room, the instructors have disappeared to wherever they lurk, and it’s just me. I sit back down, enjoying the silence, the privacy. There’s not much of that here, either one. The windows are open, and the summery smell of crepe myrtle wafts inside; I can hear the little kids of the UnderSchool playing in the green, grassy park across the avenue from our school. Looking out, I watch a huge hot air balloon drift over the rooftops of Archona, and the white-washed houses seem to glow in the orange of the setting sun.

It hasn’t been too bad, old boy, I think. It was awful lonesome there at first, with Alexandra at the other school and all the restrictions we had about using our transducers to call each other. They meant business about that, I remember, wincing. The one time we tried to sneak past the security setup, they caught us, and both of us had to do calisthenics until we dropped. I dropped a hell of a lot sooner than Alexandra did, but even she got worn out after about a day or so. At least they didn’t call her mom on us. That would’ve been really grody. As nice as Uhmis Gwen seems to be, I’d hate to be on her bad side.

I miss having Mama around, and even mean ole Alice. I never thought I’d say I missed her, but I do. I miss Tom and Andri, and Yannan and Rosta. I even miss May and Ariadne, which is astounding. They had just reached that stage of peskiness that makes a body want to strangle them, I think. But they’re good kids. I’m actually looking forward to seeing them again. And that girl in the kitchen, Betty Lou, man… I miss her, too, in the most obvious of ways…

Lost in my reverie, I don’t hear Instructor Coriolis come in. She sits down in the desk next to mine, and I jump almost out of my skin. Instantly, I leap to attention, standing stiff with eyes to the ground, hands to the side, thumbs along the seam of my trousers. Feet at a forty-five degree angle… 

“Relax, Cadet d’Ingolfsson, relax… I’m off duty, so you don’t have to brace so severely. Sit down.”

I sit, still maintaining my stiff posture, and keep my eyes on the floor in front of me. “Yes, Overlord Instructor?”

“I just saw you in here, lost in your thoughts, and wondered what they were. You’re usually quite the chow-hound. You and the three kawtuh tend to knock everyone else in your class out of the way when it comes to food, younglin’…” she chuckles. Her gold thumb-ring, massive with the shape of a mailed fist on it, glints in the dying sunlight.

“I…uh… well, um…” I don’t know what to say. Is that an indirect criticism, I wonder? My group dynamics scores have always been high, in the top ten percent, and my leadership scores have been in the top two percent… is there something I’m missing? “Ma’am?”

“Oh, it’s not a criticism. I was that way way back hundreds of years ago, when I was your age. Yes,” she says to my surprised look, “I actually was an adolescent, long ago. I remember. What were you thinking about? Plans for fun back home?”

Well, of course she’s scented you, you big gorilla, I say to myself, silently. I blush, and nod, too embarrassed to say anything. She laughs again, her voice husky-strong in the large study room. I look up out of the corners of my eyes at her, and watch her amused face for a moment. I grin, then, and try to relax a little. Her hair’s white-blonde, and cut short; it reminds me of someone, but I can’t… oh, yeah, that holovid Alexandra has, that her mother made for her; it’s got Yolande Ingolfsson in it, and that’s who Instructor Coriolis reminds me of. That’s it…

“Ah… it’s actually worked out well. You know?”

“Um, Overlord Instructor, please forgive this lowly cadet’s ignorance…”

She chuckles again, and then ruffles my short hair. “I’m talking about the experiment we ran, having you and the kawtuh attend these cadet training classes. It’s worked out quite well. I thought we should tell you in person, too. We’ve already sent our recommendations to your Muhmis, and to her mother. I think next year, when you return from Midwinter break, you’ll find lots more humans and kawtuh attending these classes as Juniors.”

“Really? I mean… oh, thank you, Overlord Instructor. It’s been an honor,” I manage, thinking, yeah, it’s been so hard I thought a few times I’d like to jump out a window and run naked through the streets, too… “Thanks.”

“You’ve earned it. The other Instructors and I, well… we have a little present for you, in your quarters. You might want to stop there before going to dinner. Which, I hear, is very good tonight, so you may not want to miss much more of it.” Instructor Coriolis stands, tall and beautiful and deadly. I stand, too, assuming the position of attention again. She moves to stand in front of me, and I hear her clear her throat.

“Never thought I’d do this with an archaic, of all things, but… look up at me, cadet.”

I look up into her darkly tanned face, above the high black collar of her walking blacks. The Draka glint, ruby red, on her collar tabs, and I feel nervous inside. “Overlord Instructor?”

Her hand reaches out and clasps mine, on the forearm, in a steel-tight grasp. “This is a little early, but congratulations on passing from Junior to Senior. I’ll look forward to having you in my classes next term, d’Ingolfsson, but you better study those patterns I tried to pound into your head. I’ll be less merciful in the dojo next session…”

“Yes, Overlord Instructor, I will. Thank you, really, thanks…” I blush again, knowing the honor she’s showing me, and how rare it is. It’s been a long, hard few months, but it’s definitely worth it. I wonder what’s in my quarters??

“Go on, now… enjoy tonight, and don’t have too much of a hangover tomorrow, for your transit back to Earth/2. Oh, and give this to your Muhmis, with instructions to give it to her mother, would you?” She hands me a tiny data disk, no larger than my thumbnail, and I immediately put it in my disk holder, attached to my uniform belt.

“Your will, Overlord Instructor Coriolis,” I reply, adding her name in a fit of daring. Normally, that would call for three or four hours of calisthenics, but she just smiles, and releases my other arm. I stand back at attention as she turns and leaves the room, as cat-silent leaving as she was entering. Once I’m sure she’s down the hall a bit, I race out of the study room towards my quarters, mind going a mile a minute…

**  
I look around the compartment, checking for any last stray items… Rosta’s missed one of Alois’ toys, a tiny giraffe, and I pick it up, dropping it into my leather shoulder bag. “All ready, Muhmis?”

“Yes…” Gwendolyn says, coming out of the other part of the large room, twisting her long red hair into a club for travelling. A gold pendant at the end finishes the job, and she smiles at me. “Are you?”

“Yes, Muhmis, just checking last minute things. Rosta, Andri and Alois are already aboard the shuttle, and we’re waiting on you.” I grin at her. “As usual.”

Gwen chuckles. She walks over to a table and begins sifting through some hand-written notes, packing them deftly into her briefcase. A few Draka have openly boggled at the ‘ancient’ device, but Gwen says it helps her organize things, and she likes it. Good enough reasons for me, I think, joining her at the table.

“I’ll be so glad to get home, Gwen…”

“You and me both. Glad this stage of the negotiations is over, actually. Now we can get down to brass tacks next time. Smythe’s no fool, even if one of his so-called assistants is.” Her voice rasps into a growl at the mention of the Samothracian idiot who tried to stomp me into the hydroponics deck a few days ago, and I shudder briefly.

Muhmis pats my back companionably, and goes back to quickly sorting and storing her papers, discarding some into a growing pile. “Want me to put these in the recycler, Muhmis?”

“Yes, honey. Here, these too. Thanks.” Gwen checks by the bunk, and comes back with a small, bound notebook, which she lays down next to the briefcase. The door chimes softly; Gwen says, “Come.”

A uniformed, very nervous Space Force second lieutenant snaps to attention, his fist to his shoulder, and waits to be spoken to. “Yes?” Muhmis goes on, slipping into her thin black leather boots, and cocking her head curiously at him.

“Overlord the Archon, greetings. I, uh, the commander of the dome wishes to send you her best regards, and, um, a token of her esteem.” He beckons minutely, but frantically, with one hand, and someone brings forth a bouquet of roses. “She, uh, the commander of the dome, um, hopes your stay has been a positive one, and that, ah, all your needs have been, mmh, met.”

“Relax, Lieutenant, before you pass out. That’s an order,” Gwen smiles, accepting the roses and nodding at the equally nervous rating standing behind the officer. “You, too. Tell your commander I said thank you, and that I was extremely pleased for the most part. Security could have been a bit tighter, in regards to the regrettable little incident we had, but that’s in the past, and I believe the problem’s been, ah, corrected. True?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am… it’s been corrected permanently.” His face pales, though, remembering the solution to the lax security personnel, and I swallow, remembering the incident, as well as the ‘correction’. Having airlocks on domes makes for handy executions, but messy ones. God…

I look down to the table, and notice that the bound book has fallen open as Gwen laid it down. In it, on one page, is a sketch, done in ink, of a scene, and I look more closely at it, thankful for the distraction from memory as well as just being plain old curious. Must be a plan for another of Gwen’s paintings, I think, and pick up the book, looking at the finely-detailed drawing closely. I hear Gwen thank the young officer and his assistant again, and close the hatch after they bow deeply and leave.

There’s a small child, clad in tattered, filthy rags, standing along a street. It, since I can’t tell gender from the sketch, is holding a ragged, torn teddy bear by one arm, and stands looking up at a group of heavily-armed Draka soldiers with huge, frightened eyes. The town around the child has been reduced to smoking rubble, and a ghouloon squats nearby, gnawing on something. I don’t look too closely to see what. Bodies are scattered about, human ones, men and women both, and some children, too. A matte-black, smoothly metaled vehicle stands in the roadway, behind the Draka, and the sun seems to glint from its body in a dull haze.

I note with a small start of surprise that one of the Draka, one that’s kneeling on one knee, near the child, bears a striking resemblance to Gwen. I feel her hand on my shoulder, and the scent of the roses fills my nose, as she moves to stand next to me, looking down at the sketch with a smile on her face. “Is this you, Gwen, the one kneeling?”

“Yes. I was offering that little waif a chocolate bar.”

“When was this?”

“It’s a bit of a long story. Killsweep, one of the later ones. Near what you’d call Pittsburg. I’ll tell you about it on the way home. Sound like a plan?”

“Yes, sure…” I grin up at her, and look down again at the disturbing picture. “Drawn from memory, of course?”

“Mm-hmm.” Muhmis plucks the book from my unresisting fingers, drops it into her briefcase, and then jokingly semi-bows, offering me the roses. “Madam? You do enjoy these, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Madam mine,” I answer with a blush. “You knew that from those first ones you sent me, back many moons ago on Andros!”

“Ah, yes… you were such a sweet pony to seduce. Better, though, now…” She hands me the flowers and then kisses me, firmly, her hands stroking, cupping, caressing. “Ahh… yes. Much better.”

“Gwen…” Another kiss stops me for a moment. “Muhmis…”

“I’m Planetary Archon. They can wait for a moment, or two, or three…”

“But your son won’t wait. He’s hungry,” I whisper, kissing her back delicately. She glances down at my bust, grinning, and then gives me a gentle slap on the fanny.

“Of course he is; he’s a Draka!” Gwen says, laughing out loud, and her voice thrills me as it always has. I jump a little at her hand’s impact on my behind, and squeak, but she kisses me one more time, and, moving to be next to my left ear, she whispers, “Thanks, Erin, for your help. You are invaluable. As well as a truly lovely pony to mount.”

“You’re welcome, Muhmis…” I blush to the tips of my toes, and she enjoys every bit of it. “Now can we please go to the shuttle, so I can feed your hungry little Draka son?”

“Yes, of course. Bring the flowers, too. They’re lovely, really, and it was a nice gesture on the part of the dome commander. Considering that she just assumed the title, after her predecessor and his security chief were, ah, corrected.” Gwen’s grin is wide, but there’s a flash of steel-hard resolve in her voice. It reminds me of how different my nonhuman Muhmis is from me, and somehow I feel a sense of loss, of paths never to be chosen, when I glance up at her.

I pick up the bouquet of ruby-red roses and my shoulder bag, the head of the giraffe poking rakishly out of the top. “I’m ready if you are, Muhmis mine…”

“Let’s go then, before I change my mind and decide to make my son wait for a bit…” Gwen says, giving me a hungry look of her own. The trip back should be interesting, I think, and follow my Muhmis out the hatch, down the corridors, to the waiting shuttle. Very interesting, indeed. Have to get her focused on telling the story behind the drawing, so I can have some time to rest up before the festivities she’s got on her mind begin…

**  
“Alexandra?!”

She turns from my bookcase, a smile lighting up her face. “Who were you expecting?”

“But, I, uh…mmmpphh!”

When she finally releases me from the kiss, and I get my breath back, I grin at her. “It’s just that I didn’t know who or what was in my room. This is the best present, really! Makes all the hours studying navigation theory worthwhile!” I kiss her, linking my hands around the back of her neck, holding her close. She can certainly tell how happy I am from this distance, Draka smelling capabilities or no, I think, and hug her even closer.

“Mmhhh… my sweet stallion-boy,” Alexandra purrs, one hand flashing down to cup me. “Ready for a ride?”

**  
I lay on the bunk, staring up at the overhead, breathing deeply. Alexa emerges from the shower and tosses her damp towel down onto my chest. “Your turn, stud. You’re right, your showers wouldn’t hold the two of us.”

Shivering slightly at the touch of the cool towel, I sit up. I’m still, well, visibly happy she’s here, and part of it’s her pheromones, and part of it’s just me, I think. Whoah, boy, whoah, now… “Yeah, found that out awhile back. No,” I continue at her look of mock-surprise, “not me, personally. A couple tried it down on the second floor, and it took four of us to pull them out. They got wedged but good. It was pretty funny, too.”

“Must’ve been!” Alexa laughs delightedly, accessing the memory from my transducer. “Gods, they really were stuck, weren’t they? That must’ve hurt! Go get in the shower, and then we’ll go down for dinner.”

“Go down?” I smirk, and duck to miss her boot. I know she only tossed it at me for show, cause if it had been for real, it would’ve hit. I remember one night back home, and a snowball fight. Damn, when Draka make snowballs, and throw them, it hurts. I finally found a trash can lid that I used as a shield, but the next day a lot of us, even Mama Erin, I chuckle, had bruises…

“Almost done?”

“Almost,” I sing out, rinsing the shampoo from my hair. Now that’s an easy thing to do, I muse, scratching my hands through the stubble, when you ain’t hardly got any hair left… it’ll grow back. I hope. I finish, and step quickly out of the shower, and towel down. I pause for a moment to look in the mirror, and see a happy-looking guy staring back at me. Not much hair, to be sure, but it’s longer than it was after that cutting session, I think, but I’m looking damn buffed. Not overdone, but, well, impressive. I flex an arm, checking out the muscle, and hear a sigh behind me.

“If you’ll quit primping and adoring yourself, we could go eat, darlin’,” Alexandra says, with a gentle smile on her face.

“Uh, sorry. Okay. Let me get dressed…” I jog into my room, and start picking up my clothes from the deck. “Um, well… let me get a new uniform out. This one’s kinda sweaty.”

“Yeah, it is.” Chuckling, Alexandra sits down at my desk, and flips open my disk case. “What’s this?”

“Um, something I’m supposed to give to you, and you’re supposed to give to your mother. From one of the Instructors here.”

“Huh. Wonder what it is. Have you looked?”

I shrug into a tunic, and tuck it into my pants. “No way! And risk a session with the Security folks? Not me.”

“Ah, it’s probably just a mash note, or something. Someone has a crush on Ma, and wants to visit Earth/2, or wants some humans to own, or a landholding…” Alexandra tosses the chip into her belt, sealing it shut with a thumb. “I’ll deliver it, though. Who gave it to you?”

“Overlord Instructor Coriolis.” I slide my feet into my boots, and stand up, straightening my uniform. “Ready to go?”

“Hmmm…I remember her; she’s not too bad looking. Teaches unarmed and armed combat, doesn’t she?” Alexa looks me over. “You look fine, pretty-buck. Just fine. Maybe we should just order in?”

“Not after you fussed at me to get ready. Come on, Geerowl’s saving us a place at a table, too. You’ll like her.” I take Alexa’s hand in mine and she stands. We’re equal, now, in height, and she looks at me with an amused expression on her face. Leaf-green eyes meet hazel ones, and I return her grin. “Please, Muhmis?”

“Okay… let’s go eat dinner with your friends. Then back here for a bit, eh?”

“No dancing?”

“Well…” she squeezes my hand. “We’ll have lots of time for dancing at home. Won’t we?”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter 18

“Why do you get so damn bossy sometimes, Ari?” I stomp my foot. It makes an entirely unsatisfactory thud on the carpeted floor of our room. “I mean, I know you’re my muhmis and all, but you don’t have to be such a witch about it! Give me a gorkin’ break, will ya?”

Ariadne turns slowly from the window and eyes me coldly. Suddenly, it seems like she’s aged, or changed, or something, and she’s no longer the person I know so well. Shivers run down my back, and I find myself stepping backwards, towards the center of the room. “Ari?”

“May, you better listen to me and listen well. This should be the only time I have to say this. You’re mine. My saafn. You will obey me. There are times you may not like me very much, and that’s too bad. You’ll still do what I say. I know what this’s about,” she sighs. “It’s about me enjoying Wallace the stable boy, and some others. That’s my right. They’re serfs of my family’s, and I can enjoy them, pleasure myself with them, pretty much as I please.”

“It is not about them. It’s about us. And you. You’ve gotten all grumpy and moody and sullen and no one likes to be around you now.” The words have popped out of my mouth before I can stop them, seemingly, and now I wish I could stuff every one of them back in, and put a lid on top. Ariadne walks towards me, eyes holding mine.

“What?”

I moved further back into the room, holding my hands up defensively. Ari’s never hit me, not once, but this time may be the first, I think. My stomach churns and the bright colors of the late fall day outside seem to have dulled. Everything seems focused on these few moments, I realize; I wish Mama Erin was here, or even Uhmis Gwen. Somebody…

“What did you say, wench?”

How’d her voice get so cold, my mind wonders, it sounds like Uhmis Gwen when she had that one stable wench whipped for letting a colt die one night… her voice was positively glacial, and now Ariadne sounds just like her mother. Oh, jeezie petes, get me out of this, someone… “Ari, please,” I whisper, pleading with her.

“Tell me again, wench, what you said,” Ariadne grinds out, her hand flashing to my collar, and pulling me within inches of her cold, angry face. “If you dare…”

“What the bloody hell’s going on here?” Alice says, standing in the doorway of our quarters, blue eyes snapping fire at both of us. “Ariadne, put her down. Immediately.”

“Stay out of this, Tantie-ma Alice,” the Draka says quietly, her eyes never wavering from mine. “This is none of your damn business.”

“Oho, me bucko, it bleedin’ well is. Put her down, or you’re in more trouble than you’d like to think about. Now, Ari. I’m not foolin’ with you.”

Ariadne drops me, and I stumble, trying to keep my balance. I put out a hand to hold her arm, more to stay on my feet than anything else, and she pulls away before I can touch her. Her hiss warns me not to try again, either. I back away, the hairs standing up along my arms and the back of my neck. “Uh, Mama, she’s…”

“I know. She’s angry at you. You’re angry at her. Now go over to the study table and sit down, both of you sheilas. Now!” Alice snaps out the last word and I find myself sitting down, eyes exploring the fine grain of the ebony study desk. Ariadne coolly walks over and pulls out a chair, sitting down sulkily, staring at Alice.

“Now, let’s iron this out before it has to go any further. I don’t think either one of you want to greet Muhmis Gwen and Tantie-ma Erin with a fuss as soon as they get back, now do you?” Alice sits down between us, at the head of the table, where our Instructor usually sits, and waits for our nods. They come, rapidly from me, and slowly, haughtily, from Ari.

“Tantie-ma Alice, it’s between me and my serf. That’s it.”

“No, that’s not it. One, I’m in charge of Household affairs. Two, your little tiff this morning upset quite a few people at breakfast, myself one of them, Ari. Your pheromones bothered everyone, not just May. Three, anything that goes on like this affects the way the Household runs, and I won’t have it disrupted like this. No way. So we’re going to bloody well sit here until we get to the bottom of it, even if we have to miss greeting your parents. Is that understood?”

“So you’ve already told Ma, haven’t you?” Ari’s eyes have widened, and she’s made fists of her hands on top of the table. “Great. Now no matter what, I’m in for it. Thanks a lot.”

“Hell, I haven’t told anyone about this. Not yet. But much more lip from you, missy, and I will. And you will be ‘in for it’, believe me.” Tantie-ma Alice’s voice is as cold as Ari’s was earlier, and I cringe in my seat.

“And you…” Mama turns to me. “You better learn how to be more respectful. Even when you disagree, you still need to maintain that respect. Or you’ll be in more trouble than this, I guarantee it. What’s gotten into you, May? You don’t have any right to criticize Ariadne for who she sleeps with, and you know it.”

“But it’s not about that…” I begin, and Ariadne growls, low in her throat. “Ari, you think you know everything, don’t you?”

“May!” Alice’s face is getting red under her tan, and I know she’s furious.

“But it’s true! Please, listen to me! It’s not about that. Yes, I was mad that she took Wallace as her pretty pony yesterday. I wanted to… but that’s not it. She’s been getting so mad recently, like everything bugs her, and then she snarls or hisses at everybody… you can ask Tara, and Julie, and Carson… they’ll tell you the same thing. She’s been mean, recent-like. Just mean, and I said the truth earlier, about no one wanting to be around her. Mama, it’s true. I said it wrong, when I was mad, but I meant it the right way.” I hang my head down, trying to hide the tears. One spatters onto the dark wood, and I smear it away with a fist.

“Regardless… you better work on the respect angle. I mean it. But,” Alice says, turning to Ari, “what she says is true. You’ve been so moody lately I could just swat you. Tell me and May what’s going on.”

“No.”

“No? That wasn’t a request, Ariadne Ingolfsson.”

“That’s Missy Ariadne Ingolfsson to you, human.” Ariadne starts to stand up, aristocratic face cold in the afternoon light.

“Sit down! Now!” Much to her surprise, and mine, and maybe even to Mama’s, Ari sits back down. “Now you listen up. As long as you live under your mother’s roof, you’ll live under her rules. One of those is that I’m in charge when she and Erin are away. So don’t give me any more gods-damned shit about ‘missy’ this and ‘human’ that. I won’t have it. I respect you for your station, Ariadne, but I won’t have you dissing me like that. Period. Got it? Got it?”

Ariadne nods. I sit, frozen with fear and anguish, wishing I could be anywhere else than here. I wriggle in my seat, and Mama spears me with a look. One of those looks, I think, that means you’re centimeters away from a spanking. I sit still.

“Now you tell me what’s got a pickle up your butt. Now.” Alice says quietly to Ariadne.

The young Draka sighs, then puts her face into her hands. “No… I don’t know… hell. Maybe I’m going crazy. I don’t know…”

“Come on, what’s eating you? You’re not going crazy. You may be driving me batty, but you’re in perfect health. Come on, tell.”

“It’s just that… you’re human, Tantie-ma, you won’t understand…”

“Try me.”

“Ah…” Ariadne pauses for a long moment. “It’s just that… this sounds stupid. I know I’ve been a bitch lately, and I’m sorry. I apologize, May, Tantie-ma. I’m sorry. It’s just that I have a lot on my mind, and I don’t know how to fix things… if they can be fixed…”

“What’s broken?” I say, reaching across the table to put her hand in mine. “Tell us, and we can help!”

“No, you bloody well can’t! You can’t, May!” She tries half-heartedly to pull her hand away, but I grip onto it tenaciously.

“What? Now you’ve got me really concerned, Ari. Tell me what’s going on.” Alice reaches out for her other hand, and holds it tightly. Ari turns from me to her, and back again. With surprise, I notice her bright blue eyes are full of tears; one trickles down her cheek as I watch.

“I don’t wanna grow up, Tantie-ma.” A tiny whisper, forced out of her, and she hangs her head down. “I don’t wanna.”

“But…” I begin, and Mama makes a face at me. I shut up.

“Ari, tell me why.” Mama’s voice has gone from harsh and cold to warm and soft, and I relax a little. When she gets that tone of voice, Mama Erin says, watch out, cause Alice’s on the warpath. But she’s always fair, if tough. I’d rather have Mama Erin fuss at me, though. Her punishments aren’t as rough. I watch a vein pulse on the side of Ariadne’s face, and wait in the heavy silence.

“Cause… cause I’m not as good as Alexandra, and she’s scared, too. Scared of duels and stuff. I’m not half as good as she is with unarmed, and only passable to her with weapons. Neither of us can stand up to Ma. She beats the tar out of us in practice. And I’m scared. I mean, she’s our mother, and she whups up on us. I’m scared of her half the time. But I’m even more scared of other Draka. I’m not ready, Alice, I’m not ready!” The last words are cried out, and she jerks her hands from us, covering her face again. “I’m not ready!” Sobs shake her now, and my heart aches.

“Oh, Ari, Ari… honey, please…” I blurt, and bolting from my chair to kneel next to hers, I hug her tightly. This time she doesn’t pull away, and I hold her for a few moments, the room silent except for her sobs and harsh breathing. Alice’s gotten up and walked to the window, looking out over the russet fields, hands held behind her.

Finally, the sobs slow, and she rests her head on my shoulder. “Now you think I’m a real gorky idiot, don’t you? Not much of a Draka.”

“No, that’s not what I think. I think you’re one hell of a Draka. Top of that, you’re even cute when you snuffle. So there.” I kiss her forehead, looking down into her sapphire eyes.

Alice walks back over and puts her hands on our shoulders. “Ari, you’re going through one of the hardest parts of growing up there is. You’re becoming a woman.”

Ariadne laughs quietly. “Oh, been there already, Mama. Two years ago, wasn’t it, May?” I blush and sit back, running a hand through her thick red hair.

“No, you goofer, I mean maturity wise. Not virginity,” says Mama, smiling. “The part about challenges… you’re right, I don’t know a lot about that, from a human perspective. But your Ma does. Talk with her about it.”

“No way! I’d rather swallow a rattler…”

“Yes way! She’s on your side, whether or not you believe it. Talk with her about it. She went through the same stuff you’re going through, for the most part. Really—she was your age once, as hard as that may be to realize. Alexandra can be someone to talk to, as well. She loves you a tremendous amount.”

“Yeah, that’s why she always calls me ‘squirt’ or ‘shorty’. Yeah…”

‘Honey, she doesn’t do that to hurt your feelings. It’s her way, and Patrick’s way, of showing you how much they like you. Talk to her, if you’d feel more comfortable than talking to your mother. But Gwen is there, darlin’, really, to listen. Try it—the worst she can say is no, if you ask to talk with her.”

“The worst she could do is laugh at me.” Ari looks down at her hands. “Like she does after practice, sometimes. She just sits on top of me, or holds me upside down, and laughs. I end up feeling like… like…”

“Like I do, sometimes. Yeah, I know. That’s the way we humans feel, a lot of the time,” Alice grins. “But there again, honey, she’s not doing it to hurt you. She’s trying to teach you, and I think she likes doing that. There’s also a part in all of you Draka that really, actively enjoys conflict, and coming out on top. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And another part of you that hates coming out on the bottom.”

“Yes!”

“Well, then. Just practice harder, and one of these days, it’ll be you on top and her underneath. Then you can share in the laughter.”

“But then she wouldn’t be laughing.”

“Don’t bet on it.” Alice’s voice is gentle. “She loves you kids, so damn much, honey. But she isn’t sure how to show that to you, sometimes. Maybe she’s afraid of…”

We look up, surprised, as Alice suddenly trails off. “What, Mama?” we both chorus.

“Um…” Alice looks a little embarrassed. “Well…”

“What?” Ariadne looks her in the eyes, a direct, challenging gaze. “What’s Ma afraid of?”

“Afraid of doing whatever she did with Alexis. She’s talked about that some, with me; she’s really not sure what she did to make him turn out the way he has. Not that there’s anything wrong with uhmas the Archon,” Alice says, hastily, eyes flicking from side to side nervously, “but just that… well, they missed something together way back, and she’s worried about doing the same with you three kids.”

“What do you mean, she missed something?” Ariadne runs her hands through her hair, frowning.

Alice looks down at us. “Well… their relationship could be so close, so friendly, but something went awry there, and for the life of her she can’t figure out what. She was Archon for a good part of his childhood and adolescence, and now she’s Archon again, with three kids to bring up. She really does worry that she’ll make the same mistake again, and you’ll grow up disliking her somehow.”

“But I love her! With ever atom of myself! How could I not love her when I’m older?”

“Me, too. But I’m kinda scared of her, too, even though she’s never mean to me.” I cross my arms, as Ariadne sits up.

“Things happen, ducks, as you grow. I don’t know… Gwen’s hard to get to know on one level, easy on some others. I really don’t know her that well, myself. Erin does, probably better than anyone else on any timeline. Maybe Tamarindus, too. But cut Gwen, ah, Ma, a bit of slack, Ariadne, and please, just try to talk with her. Please? You’d be surprised at how much it means to her, or would mean, if you’d go ahead and try.”

“Okay…”

“Hey, how about a walk along the river? Before dinner?” I take Ariadne’s hand in mine, feeling the heat and the strength in her grip as she squeezes back.

“Sounds good…” she grins. “Hey, Alice, May… I’m sorry. Really. I’ll try not to be such a gorky bitch from now on. I just figured y’all wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to…”

“We’re always here for that, love. Don’t make your poor Tantie-ma’s blood pressure skyrocket like it did a few minutes ago, anytime soon again, either.” Alice chuckles, ruffling our hair with her hands. “Go enjoy your river walk, and don’t be late for dinner. Muhmis Gwen and Tantie-ma Erin are due in around seven, too.”

“Are we gonna have to wait for them for dinner?” asks Ari, always the chow-hound.

“No, silly…” laughs Alice. Her amusement and her voice make me feel warm inside, and relieved, knowing the worst is over, and that we managed, somehow, to work things out. “They’re planning on eating in New York, and then coming here afterwards. So dinner’s in… say, an hour. Be there, or go hungry, is what I say! Steak, tonight, and fresh shrimp, right from Tantie-ma Erin’s shrimp boats in the Gulf. Okay?”

“Mmm-hmmm! We’ll be there!” Ariadne stands up, taking my hand. “Come on, sweet, let’s go for a walk, and let me apologize to you…”

“So that’s your code word, eh?” Alice laughs at us, as we walk outside. 

“One of ‘em!” calls Ari, making me almost die of terminal embarrassment. Alice’s laugh follows us down the path toward the river and its grassy walking strip, and privacy…


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter 19

“Hey, Jennifer,” I say, as I answer the door. I’m in a pair of ratty old sweatpants and a t-shirt from my Navy days; I know my hair’s a mess, too, since I’ve been asleep on the couch. The muted chime of the doorbell woke me from a doze I’d fallen into, and I discovered I’d drooled a bit on one of Alice’s reports I’d been reviewing.

“God above, you look like… well, you don’t look your best. How about I fix your rat’s nest, I mean, hair, and we go out for lunch?” Jennifer says, jokingly. She’s dressed immaculately in some sort of outfit that looks like it’s designer, which it probably is, and way too fancy for me. There’s snow on the brim of her fedora, and on her silk scarf. Must be snowing again, I think, dully. My head hurts.

“Ah… I’d love to, chick, but I really feel sort of under the weather. You know, with the activation thingy and all. Shawonda said it’d feel a little like the flu, and she wasn’t kidding. That shot the tech gave me sure hurt, I can tell you that much. Can I take a rain check?”

“Hey, okay. How about I bring you back some chicken soup? My mother’s recipe. She swears by it. Sound good?”

“Um…” My stomach lurches in protest, and I swallow. Usually anything by a recipe developed by Jennifer Feinberg d’Ingolfsson’s mother is something to die for, but right now… that’s kinda literally how I feel. “Sure. That sounds fine. Listen, Jenny, I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. Okay? When you stop by with the soup, just come on in. I’ll leave the door open.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Want some help getting to bed, chicklet? You really do look under the weather. I thought the activation was supposed to make you feel younger, and better…” She slips an arm around my shoulders and guides me to my study, where she knows I like to nap. “Here, honey, you lie down here. My god, Erin, you’re burning up… are you supposed to be running a fever?”

“Well, they said it’d be like the flu, so I guess so…” I lay back into the cot, feeling the memet-based springs beneath me form to my body contour like molten fluff. “I just hope this doesn’t last very long… would you hand me a quilt?”

“Here, faygeleh, here’s a quilt. Cover up, now. I’m going to stop by and ask Shawonda about this fever thing. You’re hotter than Gehenna…” A swift, gentle kiss on my forehead, a stroke down the side of my face, and then Jennifer’s gone. I fall asleep.

When I wake up, it feels like I’ve been asleep hours and hours. My throat’s dry, so I clamber free of the quilt and stagger into the kitchen. Boy, it’s hot in here. Wonder what the temperature is? I’ll drink some water, and that’ll make me feel better. It always does. I open the door of the cooling unit, and reach for the bottled water…

Why am I seeing NOR diagrams? Where’d they come from? What in the world… I realize I’m lying on the kitchen floor, looking up at the underside of the table. My head feels light as a feather and I’m freezing. Shivering, I manage to sit myself up, rubbing a bump on my head. What happened? I close the door of the cooling unit and stand, slowly. The cold is so intense my teeth begin to chatter and I’m shaking uncontrollably. Better get back to bed, kiddo, I say to myself. My voice surprises me; I’ve spoken out loud.

I wander back to the cot, and sit down. The shifting movement under me makes me a little queasy, and then with only that as a warning, I’m violently sick to my stomach. I make it over to the study’s trash can, next to the desk, knocking aside the chair in my haste. I hunch over the trash can, my stomach clenching and roiling painfully. When I’m doing nothing by dry heaves, I crawl back over to the cot and lie down. The pain in my stomach is spreading out, and lances through me like flaming arrows. I curl up, on my right side, trying to control the spread. The world goes grey…

When I wake up again, the pain seems more distant, more of an annoyance than anything else. Muscle cramps are racking my body this time, and I watch as the muscles on my forearms ripple and tense on their own initiative. There’s someone in the room, I think, and try to sit up, unsuccessfully. Suddenly, the taste of avgas and salt water fill my mouth, and the room goes dark. I’m floundering in the water again, in the night, listening to people drown all around me. A hand grabs me and pulls me under the waves, into deeper layers of darkness, and as I scream, my mouth fills with water, burning down my throat, my lungs…

Thompson’s there, and Chief Grey, and Billy Hobson, and Julia Highsmith… their pale, bloated faces, with marks of burns and other wounds gaping, stare at me. The comm center’s still on fire, somehow, beneath the waves, and I struggle to get free of the hand holding mine, crushing mine. I tug, and then I’m free, floating up to hit the crushed overhead, with obscene trails of blood and other things smearing into the water. I look down at my hand, and see that someone’s hand is still attached to mine; the arm dangles in the murk, torn free of its owner. I gag, and try to breathe. Their voices, chill, fey, pound in my head with each heartbeat. “You left us, Erin Kane. You left us…”

“But… no! I tried, I did—it burned, oh god, it burned, my face, my hands… I tried to get you all out, but you were dead, oh jeezie petes, please…”

“You left us, and now you’re coming back to us…” intones Chief Grey, his chest cavity yawning pink and black in the firelight reflected from the oily water. “Where you belong. You never should have left.”

“Nnnnnhhhhhhoooooo…”

I feel a tug at my leg, and look down into Peter’s shattered face. “I’d like my hand back, please, Erin. Thanks.”

“Peter! Ah, god, no… you lived, you didn’t die here… oh, god, help me. Please…” I scrabble at the hatch, trying to undog it, and nothing’s moving. My lungs burn, and then slowly, insidiously, a calm settles over me. Maybe I shouldn’t struggle so much. They were my friends, after all, except Grey, and maybe he’s not so bad, either. I belong here. They know me. Up top, no one really does. It’s easier to stay here. Just floating… no worries, no stress… weightless. Quiet solitude, alone with my friends…

“Erin?”

“She’s really bad off, isn’t she, Shawonda?”

“God, yes. Hey, get the medmonitor over here, stat. Call Muhmis Gwen, something’s wrong…”

The voices echo around me, and I try to look into the darkness, to find their owners. Shawonda’s ebony face suddenly looms over me, her big brown eyes full of concern, both professional and personal. “Shawonda?”

“Hey, honey, it’s okay. No more screaming, now. You’re gonna be fine. Yeah, Tammy, fix that over her left arm, make sure it’s secure…” She turns away for a moment, and the tide of blackness washes over me again, whirling me away.

I struggle to move my legs, and can’t. Pain burns through me, short, hot stabbing jolts, and I hear myself screaming. It must be another beating, I think, Mother’s tied my legs down again. Must’ve kicked her or Father a good one… no, please, make it stop. No more… the sullen whish as Father’s belt comes down, the amazing sting of pain that always follows it. His voice, intoning Bible passages, calling me cursed, perverted, evil… Mother’s voice, echoing his, calling for me to repent. I feel her weight pressing down on me, smothering me, and somehow I get my arms free in an insane burst of strength.

“No, no—god-dammit, no more, get off me, no more whippings, I’ll never change, I’ll never say what you want me to say, go to hell, nooo…” I hear a thud as my fist collides with my father’s face, and he lurches backwards, out of my line of sight. I try to tear loose the binding straps on my legs, and feel someone’s hands on my shoulders, pushing me back. “Nooo!”

“Erin, calm down…Erin, it’s me, Gwen, no, don’t hit, calm down now. Listen to me, wench. It’s Muhmis. Listen…” 

A moment of clarity returns, and I look up into Gwen’s concerned face. She’s holding me down on a stretcher, a floater, and there’s commotion in the background. My fist hurts. I unclench it and look at the swelling knuckles dumbly. “Muhmis?”

“You just managed to knock out one of Shawonda’s assistants. Now hold still. You’ve been delirious. It’s all right now, Erin. Muhmis is here. It’s all right…” I feel, as much as hear, the soothing harmonics in her voice, and stare up into leaf-green eyes, full of life, of…

Hunger. The blackness roils before me again, and clears, suddenly; I watch with horror as Gwendolyn reaches down a clawed hand to my abdomen, digging in. Blood spurts, splashes over my face as I writhe under her hand, unable to move, or fight. It emerges from my chest with something brown and bloody, and she lifts it to her red-speckled face, white teeth glinting in the sun. “Mmmh… fresh human liver. How tasty.” She rips part of it off and eats it as I watch, my vision going grey again. The last sound I hear is my despairing, burbling scream of horror…

“Get into the pilot’s seat, Alexa, and get us emergency clearance. We’re going to Delta Nine; they’re the closest. We’ve got to get her to a real medcenter, quickly.” Gwen’s voice holds the ring of command to it, and I whimper. She turns swiftly to me, pushing aside a tech who’s adjusting a meter of some sort. “Darlin’… my darlin’ Erin, it’s all right. Honey, listen to me. We’re taking you to an orbital weapons platform, one with the medical facilities you need.”

“What…” My voice cracks; my throat feels like it’s been scraped raw and then painted with salt. “What’s wrong… with me… Gwen?”

“You’re having a reaction to the activation cycle. I’m not sure why yet. Shawonda’s running some tests, right now. Ssshhhh… lie still, little ‘un. Lie still, now.”

“Please, please… whatever I did, I’m sorry, please, Muhmis… please let me go…” I try to wriggle loose from the straps holding me down, and then a pressure like a huge hand over my entire body pushes me into the floater’s mattress. When the spots have gone away, or mostly, I find I can still breathe, although it’s an effort. I feel light-headed again, and the nausea returns. There’s nothing to throw up, though, and I retch miserably, noticing in an abstract sort of way that someone’s holding my head to one side, with a mask covering my mouth. Cold air blows onto my face, feeling like heaven.

Things go grey again, and then I’m in Archona. I recognize some of the buildings, and then find myself in Gwen’s townhouse. Gardens surround us, hundreds of exotic flowers in bloom, but they have no scent. I turn from the window, and come face to face with Yolande Ingolfsson. Her huge grey eyes bore into mine, and fear crawls through my belly.

“Damnyank… my daughter’s favorite is a damnyank… you’d think our family would learn, wouldn’t you?” Her voice is cold as the space between the planets, and I try to back away. She laughs, quietly, with an edge of madness. “I tried to tell her there’s only one way to break a damnyank. I did it. I’ll do it again, since she doesn’t have the guts or the sense to do it now. Gwen’ll thank me later, don’t worry.”

Yolande raises a tiny silver box, and aims it in my direction. I look down at my right wrist, and my eyes widen as I recognize a controller cuff. “Please, no… I obey her, please… oh, god, no, I’m not Marya, please, Yolande, no…”

The pain explodes in my head, and I lash out with all my strength, trying to get away, to do anything, die even, to make the pain stop. I hear the crash of equipment falling over, and curses; hands strong as steel clamp down on my legs and arms, my head, holding me to the medcenter gurney. “Nooo! No, please, no!!! Peter, please, I need you, please… someone, oh god, make it stop, I’ve obeyed, damn you, damn you all to hell, oh god… let me go, please, Muhmis, Muhmis, let me go…”

There’s something cold at the side of my neck, my vision clears of the red haze that had surrounded me, and I again see Gwen’s face. There’s a tiny trickle of blood from her lower lip, and part of my mind wonders about it. “Ah… nnhhh…. Gw… enn…” The words flow from me like molasses on a cold day, and the world feels warm and fuzzy.

“Darlin’, it’s all right. Please, please listen to me now. It’s all right. We’ve got everything under control, Erin. You’re going to go to sleep now, and when you wake up, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here. No one will hurt you. My mother won’t hurt you, darlin’, no one will. Ssssaaaaa, my sweet little thing, it’s okay. Just close your eyes, and sleep. It’s all right, Muhmis promises, darlin’. Shhh, sleep now…” Her hand, smoothly caressing my face, soothes me, and my eyes grow incredibly heavy.

“Gwendolyn?” I whisper, and then the world stops for a while.

**  
The cool pastel colors of the walls are nice, I think. Not too much, not too little. I like that. My stomach rumbles, and I try to sit up. I’m amazed at how good I feel, but I’m weak, too, like a kitten. I finally give up and lay back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

“Well, so you finally decided to wake up?” Gwen’s voice makes me open my eyes, and I focus on her tanned face. I smile at her, and she returns it. Alexandra peeks over her mother’s shoulder and winks at me.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Hungry? I heard your stomach rumbling…” she chuckles.

“Mmmhh… yeah, I am hungry, to be honest.” I try to sit up, and Muhmis helps me, scooting me to a comfortable sitting position with pillows propping me up. I tug at the blanket, shy as usual, and then stop. I look down at my breasts. Something’s different, I think. What… my god, I look so… taut. So much more firm than I am… or was… I look at my hands next. The few scars that were there are gone, and the tell-tale age signs are gone, too. My nails have been manicured and buffed, too, I realize. I reach up and touch my face, looking into Gwen’s eyes as my hands explore.

“Yes, sweetlin’, the rejuve took, finally, and you look lovely. Simply lovely.” Muhmis sits on the side of my bed, and taking my hand in hers, kisses it. “Glad we got you here, though.”

“What… what happened, Muhmis? I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt or anything,” I say, feeling the old terrors rising again. “It was terrible…”

“Yeah, you can say that again. You knocked out a couple of attendants, and said crazy stuff, like about grandmother Yolande…” Alexandra suddenly stops, reddening. “Sorry, Ma.”

“Run along and get Erin something to eat.”

“Uh, well, okay, Ma. Any special requests, Tantie-ma?”

“No…” I smile up at her. “Crazy stuff, eh?”

She shoots a glance at her mother, who inclines her head fractionally toward the hatch, and then Alexandra bends down, gives me a quick kiss on the lips, and strides away, out of the room. I turn to Gwen, an eyebrow raised. “Crazy stuff? Yolande?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Maybe it’s for the best, then. You were quite… irrational, delirious. Your fever went dangerously high for a human; your internal systems were shutting down; going into shock. We finally figured out what happened, and fixing it wasn’t much of a problem.”

I snuggle into the blanket, and squeeze her hand with mine, still sandwiched between hers. “What did happen, Gw—ah, Muhmis?”

“You can call me Gwen, darlin’, it’s all right. We have the whole ward to ourselves. Well, what happened was an inexcusable error. The tech who gave you the activation sequence injection gave you the servus version. Your system was basically destroying itself as it tried to destroy the alien gene sequence. The gene sequence was doing what it was supposed to be doing, which was replicating, and it caused all sorts of problems. Once we determined what had happened, though, we were able to remove the servus genetic material and inject you with the correct human sequence.”

“It made that much difference?” I shiver. Wonder what happened to the tech, I think, but then decide I really truly don’t want to know.

Gwen reaches over and strokes a strand of dark blonde hair from my face, tucking it behind an ear for me. “Yes, darlin’, it did. Almost lost you.” Her voice is a little husky, and I think I see tears standing in her eyes for a second or two.

“Don’t want that, do we?” I grin, and raise her hands to my lips. “I don’t want to go away, Gwen. Not ever.”

“Well, all the tests show that the rejuve process took quite well this time round, and that means you have an unlimited life span. You’ll be next to me for millennia, with luck. My beautiful saafn, my pretty-girl…” Gwen pulls me gently to her, and I wrap my arms around her neck, nestling into her warmth, her strength. I feel a surge of arousal, and kiss her throat.

“Ah-ha…no, little ‘un… not yet. You have to get your strength back. In a few days, though, believe me, we’ll have plenty of time for… mmmhh, yes, for that, too…” Gwen chuckles, a purr rumbling from deep inside her chest as she returns my enthusiastic kisses.

“Um, hey, y’all, are you gonna make out like mad mink or is Tantie-ma Erin going to have the first solid meal she’s had in days?” Alexandra stands in the hatchway, an amused smile playing over her face, and I smell wonderful things on the cart behind her, manned by a nervous-looking servus. He wheels it in, following Gwen’s daughter, and uncovers some of the dishes with a flourish. Ham, scrambled eggs, grits, corn bread, grapefruit, slices of melon… my eyes grow huge as I feel hunger roar through me. 

“I think we can hold off on making out for a few minutes, don’t you, Erin?” Muhmis laughs, stroking my back. I nod, and she hand-feeds me a slice of honeydew melon, catching a drop of juice with an index finger, then allowing me to suck it off. 

“Arrrgghh… you guys. All you think about is…”

“And you never think about it at all? That’s not what Patrick tells me…” I scold, waving a finger at Alexandra’s eye-rolling act. “Not at all?”

“Oh, you must be all better, if you can fuss at me,” Alexa says, coming to sit behind me, and hug me. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Erin, really and truly glad. I was scared for you…”

“I’m okay, hon. Thanks, though,” I return, squeezing her steel-strong arms with my hands as Gwen prepares to feed me another slice of melon. “I was a little scared, myself, truth be told.”

“All’s well that ends well,” Alexandra says, leaning forward and nipping off a piece of melon. Gwen chuckles at her; the young mahogany-haired woman stands up, giving me another affectionate peck, and then one to her mother. “I’ll leave you two to get erotic with the scrambled eggs and maple syrup, and go get something to eat, myself. See you in a bit…” She waltzes from the room to our joined laughter, and then Gwen kisses me, delicately, longingly, on the lips.

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, but let’s save it for tomorrow. Let’s just eat, now, honey.” She hands me a plate with eggs and ham on it, and I grin at her.

“We’ll put that on the ‘to-do’ list, then, Muhmis…” Breakfast tastes so good, I think, as I eat sitting next to Muhmis. We talk of inconsequential, everyday things, glad to be free of the shadows of madness that passed over me. My body feels so different, so much more vibrant, I think, as I lie down at Gwen’s command after we’ve finished eating. Her hands massage me from toes to nose, and the last thought I have before I drift into a deep, untroubled sleep is: glad I made it back. Back to her.

**  
“Hey, Squirt Two, have you seen Tantie-ma Erin? She looks totally cool now…” Alexandra says, tossing one of my genengineered cats off the bed and plumping down next to me. The cat fluffs her fur haughtily and says something about “big feet, no treats, may fur fall out” before stalking away to perch on my dresser.

“Will you puh-leaze quit calling me that?” I moan, thrashing about dramatically. “I hate it!”

“S.T., S.T., S.T.,” Alexandra chants, tickling me. I squirm under her hands, laughing, but all of a sudden it feels different, and I stop laughing. Grinning down at me, Alexa smooths back her now-short red hair and tries one more experimental tickle. I try to sit up, and cross my arms defensively. It feels like when Ariadne wants to get frisky, and I’m not used to feeling this way with Alexandra, that’s for sure, I think to myself. “Hey, what’s wrong? Too hard?” Alexa asks, a small frown crossing her tanned face.

“N-n-no…” I manage to sit up. “Um, no. Just, well, you know…” I feel the blush creeping up my throat, and curse both Mama Alice and Mama Erin for having such fair skin. You can’t hide a blush when your skin looks like mine. “Just, well, quit, already, okay?”

“Mmmmhh…” Alexandra sits up; her leaf-green eyes look me over appraisingly. “You’re feeling aroused, aren’t you?”

“Oh, hell!” I jump off the bed; the cat runs out of the room, cussing me. I go over to stand by Ariadne’s and my study desk, and flip through a notebook, trying to calm down. Gods above…

“Ssssaaa, it’s all right, little ‘un… really. Hey, now, May, it’s really all right. No, don’t try to pull away, goofus. C’m’ere.” Her strong arms surround me, lift me up, and then she’s kissing me, hard and fast. Harder than Ariadne does. I gasp, and try to pull my arms free. 

“Please, please… it, I, uh, mmmph, um, please…” Her kisses are growing more insistent, and I know if I don’t stop her soon, I won’t be stopping her at all. “Please, uhmis Alexandra.”

“ ‘uhmis’ ? Why so formal… oh. Oh. You don’t want to? But your scent…” She stops kissing me, but continues holding me. I’m very, very aware of the touching of our bodies, her warmth along my thighs, our chests together. I try not to squirm, afraid she’ll misinterpret it.

“But… well, I’m not a virgin or anything, but… Ariadne and I have, well… but…”

“It’s okay. I’ve asked her, already. If you don’t believe me, call her with your transducer, silly, and ask. Mmmhh… you feel sooo good, May, so very good…” Alexandra nuzzles against my throat as I frantically page Ariadne.

Ari? Ari? Answer, damn it!

What? What’s wrong? 

Where are you? Did Alexandra ask you something… about me?

Oh. Um, well, yeah, earlier. In fact, a couple of days ago. Sorry. Meant to mention it to you, but with Tantie-ma Erin getting back and all, well… I forgot. It’s cool with me, though, if she makes a pass at you, darlin’…

What do you think she’s doing right now? Damn it, why didn’t you tell me earlier? Ari?

Hey, now, my little pony, settle your butt down. I forgot, okay? Sorry. Enjoy it. I hear she’s pretty hot. Maybe you’ll learn some of those Senior Level moves, and then you can teach them to me.

Aaaarrrgghhh… I send a mental wave of irritation towards Ariadne, in the indoor pool, and then drop out of the link, feeling Alexandra peeling my jeans off. “Oh, gods, Alexa!”

“Mmh-hhmm?” She picks me up and tosses me down on the bed, purring loudly. Then she strips off her tunic and skirt, and pounces. Her lips on mine, green eyes staring down into my face, the sound of her arousal filling my ears… soon, that’s all I notice. That, and how she’s touching me, and showing me how to touch her. I do manage to learn a thing or two, as a matter of fact. Maybe, just maybe, if Ari apologizes enough to me, I think, I’ll show her a few new things tonight…

The afternoon passes in a blur of passion, but finally Alexandra’s sated. I’m exhausted, and lying next to her, curled up against her slender, muscular body. Her heartbeat sounds loud in my ear, as my head rests against her chest, and she’s slowly stroking one hand through my auburn hair. “That was simply lovely, May. We’ll have to do this more often. Ari doesn’t know what she’s got, with you.”

“Um… well, maybe not. You sure showed me a thing or two this afternoon.”

“Yeah… and you’re a damn fast learner, too.” She chuckles, and slips a leg between my thighs. “Want to learn some more?”

“Urk. Well…”

She grins, and pulls me on top of her with an easy motion. “Tired my pretty out, did I?”

“Don’t they let you be frisky while you’re at school? You and Patrick, and some of the others, have been doing it almost nonstop since you got back for midwinter break, Alexa…” I pout, propping myself up on my forearms, across her collarbones. She runs her fingers down my ribs, delicate, precise, and laughs out loud as I squeak. “That tickles! Hey, that’s what got all this mess started… mmhh, no, please, I am kinda tired out right now, Alexa…”

“Okay… no, we’re too damn busy to spend much time being frisky. It’s harder, too, being frisky with other Draka, cause when you’re an Ingolfsson, then the other person starts thinking you’re wanting to make some sort of alliance or something dumb, when all you really wanna do is get off. It’s frustrating. Too, I’m used to getting some whenever I please, not whenever I can manage it. That’s been hard to get used to. But thankfully, only one more session, and then it’s off to space for me and Pat…”

“I can’t wait to go. I really, really can’t. Doesn’t Ariadne want to be a pilot commander like you?”

Alexandra twirls a piece of my hair around one long, slender finger. “I don’t know. She’s not very talkative around me for some reason, since I came back. When I saw how well you’d blossomed, I knew I wanted to have a taste, and she wasn’t gorky about it at all, but she’s been, well, real quiet. How come?”

I wait a minute until my blush settles down, and slide, gently, down off Alexandra, to lie next to her again. “She’s just nervous. I think she admires you so much that half the time, she’s not sure what to say around you, or Muhmis Gwen, either.”

“Gwen’s something else. Man, the more I learn about her, I mean, the official stuff, the historical stuff, the more, well, intimidated I feel around her. Jeezie petes, as Tantie-ma Erin’d say.” Alexandra pulls the quilt up over me, and smoothes it down. “Ma does kinda scare me. Sometimes. Then there are times when I could just curl up in her lap and purr for an hour or something. That doesn’t seem to happen as much as it used to.”

“That’s kinda the thing Ariadne’s going through, too. Your mom’s always sort of scary to me, even though she’s never done anything mean to me or anything. She just kinda makes me feel like a mouse must to a cat.”

“And a sweet little mouse, at that!” Alexa laughs, kissing me on the nose. “Take a nap, why don’t you? I know you need one. I’ll call you in time for a shower, and dinner. I’m going to go talk to that silly little Squirt sister of mine, whether or not she’s so admiring of me…”

“Hey, that sounds like a good idea, really, Alexa. She wants to talk with you, and your Ma, but she’s just a little scared on how to begin. Don’t get frustrated or anything with her, will you?” I snuggle under the warm cover, and feel her hands tucking me in firmly.

“No, I won’t get frustrated with her. I promise. After all, she was nice enough to lend you to me, now wasn’t she? Gonna teach her some new moves the next time you two do it?”

I roll over, burying my face in the pillow. “Maybe. If she apologizes enough for forgetting to tell me you asked for me…”

A gentle kiss on the back of the neck, and Alexandra’s gone, silent as a cat; speaking of, Hubble, the cat who ran out on us earlier, returns to stake her claim to a nice warm spot on top of me, and we both fall asleep, worn out by our afternoon’s excitement.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

“Hey, girl, you look great!”

Shawonda sits down next to me at the breakfast table, eyeing me critically. I grin through a mouthful of toast and wink at her.

“You sure did have me running scared there for a bit. I’m damn glad Jennifer had the sense to call for help the way she did.” My friend helps herself to a plate full of hotcakes and syrup, and nods when the server brings the coffee over.

“Heck, I was scared, too. At least what little of it I remember, I was scared. Jennifer is a treasure, truly. She picked me up and got me going again after Peter, and now this…” I sip the coffee, savoring the taste. Everything seems brighter, more sharp-tasting, more vivid than before. I guess that’s part of the rejuve process. I know I’m hornier than hell. “Here, try some of the grits--they’re great this morning.”

“You certainly have an appetite!” Shawonda laughs.

I wink at her again, lecherously. “For more than food, my dear…”

“Oh, yeah?” She grins. “Get funky with yo’ bad self, girl, just go on…”

We both crack up, and I’m wiping tears from my eyes as Alexandra and Ariadne come walking out to join us for breakfast. Alexandra’s wearing a toga-like affair, very fetching on her slim, muscular frame, and Ariadne’s got her hair done up in a new style today. She goes through about three style changes a week now. Hope she doesn’t pick one that does something undoable… then she’d be in a pickle, I think, smiling at the two young Draka as they sit down across from Shawonda and myself.

“What’s so funny, Tantie-ma?” Ariadne says, picking up an orange and deftly peeling it. 

“Yeah, tell…” Alexandra nods, taking the plate of country ham that Shawonda passes her way. It’s returned half-empty, I notice.

“Oh, we were just being old coots, Shawonda and me. That’s all.”

“Nah, tell ‘em why we were laughing so hard, girlfriend.” Shawonda nudges me under the table, clearly enjoying my deepening blush. Oh, I’ll get you for this, Sha, I think to myself, confining my reaction to a slashing stare for a moment.

“Oh, come on, tell, Tantie-ma…” Alexandra pleads, doing her “sad puppy dog eyes” routine with me. Seeing that look out of her mother’s face, which it is, since she’s a clone of Gwen, always makes me laugh, just for the sheer incongruity of it. Everyone else enjoys it, too.

“I was telling Shawonda here, of the roaming legs, yes, you , Miss Thang, mm-hhmm, that’s no one else’s leg there, now is it? I was telling her what an appetite I have now, after the rejuve.”

Shawonda stops laughing long enough to say, “Tell them for what, bean-head!”

“Everything!” I yell, spreading my arms wide, up into the clear morning air. I also accidentally on purpose sprinkle Shawonda’s hair with toast crumbs. Ariadne notices, her eyes widening a bit, and then she grins conspiratorially at me. Alexandra’s too busy laughing, and Shawonda hasn’t noticed yet. I enjoy my tiny victory immensely.

“Everything?” The smooth, almost husky voice of my Muhmis comes from behind me, and then I feel her arms around my shoulders. She buries her face into the curve of my neck, nuzzling, nipping, and I giggle. “I thought we did almost everything last night… thought of something new, my pretty-girl?”

“Aw, Ma…” Ariadne rolls her eyes in embarrassment, and Alexa nudges her with an elbow. 

“Oh, come on, Ari, I know you say the same thing to May…”

“But at breakfast?”

Alexandra turns to face her sister. “Don’t, please don’t, act the prude with me… I know a thing or two, missy, about you…”

Scarlet, Ari ducks her head to everyone’s laughter. I murmur, “Enough, Alexa, don’t pick on your sister, please.”

“True enough,” Gwen agrees, sitting down next to me. She reaches for some breakfast platters, and then pauses, a curious expression on her deeply tanned, aquiline features. “Is that a new hairdo, Shawonda?”

“What?” Shawonda reaches up, and touches her tightly-rolled cornrows, fingering the tiny beads, and then discovering the crumbs. “Oh, you…” Her growl of frustration does hold an element of appreciation for a joke well-done, I think, as I wiggle away from her outstretched, tickle-threatening fingers. And of course I don’t mind at all that I’ve just somehow managed to wiggle right onto Gwen’s firm lap. I feel her purr of pleasure resonate from deep within her chest, and she sucks on an earlobe that’s conveniently placed within reach. I hand her a piece of melon, and the way she takes it from my fingers brings back quite direct memories of last night…

Shawonda finally breaks into a chuckle, and stands up, walking away from the table to brush the crumbs free. “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little cat, too…”

“It was only payback for embarrassing me in front of these two young, innocent, delicate flowers of youth,” I crow, feeling Gwen’s hand run down my back slowly. Goosebumps appear on my skin, and it’s not very cold out.

“Mmh--hmm.” Still smiling, Shawonda takes a glass of juice from the table. “I’ll still get you back. Don’t worry.”

“Girls, girls…” Gwen says, grinning at the two of us. “It’s lovely to see all this energy. Perhaps we can put that to good use. Come on.” She stands me on my feet, then taking me by one hand, and Shawonda by the other, leads us back into the mansion, and up the marble stairs, to her quarters. It’s a different kind of breakfast we get for the next couple of hours, certainly, but not one that I mind at all. The amused and tolerant laughter of Gwen’s daughters follows us up the stairs.

**  
I roll over, onto my back, and feel the cool breeze that’s blowing the curtains into billowing folds of silk caress my bare body. Shawonda’s showering with Gwen; I can hear their laughter and an occasional squeal of pleasure. Grinning, I stretch, luxuriantly alone in Muhmis’ huge bed. I thought I had stamina, even more so after the rejuve, I say to myself, but man, Shawonda… once she gets going, it takes a Draka to wear her out. She’s something else, indeed.

Gwen pads quietly into the room, the sunlight glinting off drops of water that sheen her long-legged, muscular body. “Sleepy head,” she croons, leaning over me and dripping on me unrepentantly.

“I’m not asleep, I’m merely inspecting the backs of my eyelids, madam.” I tickle her, gently, and she purrs, as her hands begin to explore me. “Again, Muhmis?”

“Whyever not?”

“Well, there is work to be done around here, you know. And I need to check in on Alois, and see how he’s doing with his nanny, and I supposedly have a meeting with Alice around noon, to discuss some household things. Then you and I have to sit down and plan out some ideas on the negotiations, darling, sometime today… mmmphh… hmm… and well, mmmhh… yes, that’s lovely, Gwen… ah, gods, ahhh…”

A few moments later, Gwen’s sitting astride me, a wide grin lighting her tanned face. “And you were saying, my little planner?”

“Pony, you mean, don’t you?” I lick my lips and thrust upward with my hips, feeling the pleasant contrast between her hard Draka body and mine. Although, I think, I have a heck of a lot more muscle and less fat than I ever have before…

“Mmhh… yes, you are my pretty pony. You know my responses better than anyone, actually. One reason you’re my favorite, one of many. But you are lovely as a planner, an organizer, too, darlin’. Keep doing that, though,” Gwen returns the motion with pleasure, “and I’ll have to reschedule a lot today. Not that I’d mind. All work and no play makes Gwen grumpy.”

“God forbid!”

“Sarcasm? In the position you’re in?” Gwen laughs, leaning down and kissing me slowly, delicately.

“No, I was being quite sincere. I’ve seen you annoyed a couple of times, and I have no intention of seeing you grumpy. That sounds worse than annoyed.”

“Well, yes, it probably is…” Muhmis agrees, and slides off me, with a final, long, motion of muscle against my body, splayed under her greater weight. I squeal, softly, and hear her chuckle in reply. “But you don’t have to worry about that, my Erin. Not really.”

I sigh, partly with regret that Gwen’s not riding me anymore, partly with relief; sometimes I feel trapped under her, and she knows it. Uses it. Her arm, with steel-like strength, begins kneading my thighs, and I groan softly as her fingers relax me. “Ah, god, that feels so good, Gwen…”

“You feel good, Erin. Very good. Over the years, we’ve grown to know each other’s needs, likes and dislikes. You’re wonderfully responsive, and even more so since the rejuve. Feeling more energetic?”

I roll onto my side, facing her. “Well, yes. In some ways. Food tastes stronger, I can stay awake longer, my libido’s up higher than I can ever remember… but I feel sort of sad, inside, too. It’s hard to place a finger on it. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me.”

Long fingers cup my chin, raising my head so my eyes look into her leaf-green ones. Gwen smiles, gently, slowly, and whispers: “Tell me anything you want, my sweet, and it’s yours.”

I smile back, sadly. “What I want to ask for, you can’t give me.”

Muhmis sighs, and caresses my cheek. “Besides freedom, darlin’… you and I have been through that before, and I don’t really want to go through it all again. But anything else… an island, perhaps? A vacation? A pet?”

“Ah, Gwen…” I look into the eyes, and see honest love there, and some confusion. Most serfs would have a list a mile long, and be ready at any point to ask for something; I’ve never been one of them. The most I’ve ever bent the rules for with Gwen is to beg someone off from a punishment, or to curb one that I think is too harsh for the circumstances. I have enough trouble asking about those instances, I think, so how does she expect me to answer?

“My sweetlin’, my pretty-girl… you’re so valuable to me, you know that? I want to make you happy, guide you somehow. Help you accustom yourself to the new place you’re in, after the rejuve. You’re the first non-Draka to ever receive an unlimited lifespan. Ever. That has to take some getting used to, darlin’…”

“I know. It’s hard, sometimes. I catch myself looking in the mirror, wondering who’s looking back. I don’t know how all of you just accept it, like… like it’s just a thing. It’s more than that. It’s hard, Gwen…”

“Then let me help you. Name it, and it’s yours… within limits.”

“Oh, yes, the limits. No, please…” I pull her back to facing me, as she’s begun to roll away, onto her back. Her eyes are clouded, now, and I wonder if I’ve made her mad. “Please, Gwen, Muhmis… don’t be mad. You’ve always told me to be honest with you. Can’t we talk about this some? Or should I be quiet now?”

A snort of amusement. “Yes, precedent, of course. That’s true; I’ve always told you to be honest. Why does the limit on the concept of freedom bother you so much, Erin? Like Alice has said, someone’s always in charge. Do you want to be a Draka, now?”

“No.”

Gwen’s eyebrows rise. “Hmm… I remember asking you that before, and getting the same answer. I can’t imagine why, though, for the life of me.”

“Gwen, it’s… I was raised to believe that personal, individual freedom was something worth defending, dying over if necessary. That’s what I thought America stood for. After the Nimitz, things seemed different. But that didn’t diminish the value I placed on freedom. When you gave me the choice of serving you or dying, I chose life. But that’s not a choice that made me happy, inside, although I guess if I’d chosen death, I wouldn’t be feeling anything, now would I?”

“No.”

I sigh, and trace a line along her collarbones with a fingertip. “Being with you has made me very, very happy in many ways. I have children, a lover, good friends, good health, and now the rejuve thing. More power than most humans. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy power for power’s sake alone. I don’t. If I could, I’d retire and go back up to the mountains, and spend my days studying nature. Or something. Fossil-hunting. Berry-collecting. I’m good at organizing people, Gwen, good maybe at leading them. But sometimes, I don’t enjoy that.”

“Why? I don’t understand. Doing that, leading, being in command, makes me feel, well… wonderful.”

“Part of you is wired that way; part of it’s that your culture, your society, reinforces those behaviors in you. I’m different.”

“Yes, darlin’… but charmingly so…”

I lift her head back up, and place a finger against her lips. “Changing the subject like that isn’t fair, unless we’re through talking. Are we?”

Gwen laughs, and kisses my finger. “No, little missy, I guess not. Although I’m not used to being ordered about like that…”

“Sorry,” I grin. “I don’t want to be a Draka. I want, one day, to be a free human who may choose to stay with the Draka or not, and not based on a life or death situation. Does that sound amazing to you or something?”

Leaf-green eyes stare into hazel ones. I hear the laughter of children outside, drakensis and human mixed together. “That’s what I mean, that’s what I dream of, Gwen,” I say, gesturing toward the window and the sounds outside. “Can’t you even imagine that?”

“Well, I am a tiny bit short on imagination, Erin…”

“Seriously!”

Gwen sits up, and coaxes me up, too, putting her arms around me and holding me close in the cool breeze. The scent of magnolias and new-cut grass drifts in, and I snuggle against the always-surprising heat of my Muhmis’ body. “Darlin’… seriously? No. I can’t really imagine that. Draka are designed to take charge, to be dominant. Even among those children, the drakensis babes will be the leaders. Always.”

“You can’t see any way to change that? Ever?”

“Why should we? It works, we like it, our society has outlasted wars, persecutions, and all sorts of other problems, well into the twenty-fifth century. Not bad for a bunch of folks who were kicked out of their native climes for their beliefs, over and over again.”

“But in order to survive, you need to be able to adapt. Somehow. Don’t be fossils, Gwen, if you can help it. Maybe that’s what I’m so sad about; I feel like now that I’m unaging, I might be a fossil.”

“Prettiest fossil I’ve ever kissed…”

I snarl with frustration, and Gwen looks startled. “Erin…”

“I’m sorry… it’s important to me, that’s all. And when you get kissin’ and what-not on me, then it seems like you’ve just been, well, tolerating my pillow talk. Is that it?”

“No, certainly not. I just scented that you were getting upset, and thought I’d switch your label on the emotion. That’s all. I value what we talk about, Erin. It gives me a great deal of insight into the human part of your thinking. That, in turn, helps me.”

“ ‘Life is change…how it differs from the rocks…’ I don’t know if you can understand that. Gwen, you and the other Draka are so magnificent, so wondrous in so many ways, and it’s like this dominance thing is such a silly fl--” I catch myself, blushing. There’s limits, and then there’s limits, girl, I sternly tell myself.

“Go on, finish your sentence, Erin-mine.” A gentle giant-strength hug underscores the words, but I’m not sure. I don’t want to make her mad, of all things, and ruin this… exchange we manage to maintain.

“Nah… I was just talking…”

“No, tell me what you were going to say.”

“It’s like, okay… don’t be mad. I was going to say: it’s a silly flaw. Something that if you wanted to, you could change somehow. Maybe it’s changing, without you, and your generation, really realizing it. Please don’t be mad, Muhmis…”

“Mad? I hope not. Angry--not that either. Somewhat confused, and amused. Why do you think it’s changing? We’re quite a static society, darlin’…”

“Have you thought about the way the Earth/2 generations of Draka interact with humans?”

“A bit… there’s not the necessity for the extreme measures my mother’s generation had to use, to force the yoke on humans, and there’s more of a relaxed relationship between the youngsters and their saafn. But don’t let that fool you into thinking the younger generation are going to surrender dominance. They’re Draka, dear. Always will be.”

“But they can change… we can change things, Gwen…”

“I know you want to, and maybe in some ways, we can. We will. But don’t break your heart, Erin, wanting something I can’t give. No Draka can give that to a human, a kawtuh, or a servus. You’re our saafn, ours to possess, ours to guide and protect. Always.”

“Oh.”

Gwen wipes a tear from my cheek. “Sweet, please don’t be sad about this. Try to accept. It makes it easier. Believe me. After all these years…”

“I know. I’m just stubborn. Stubborn and hopeful. Still.”

Muhmis rocks me for a few moments, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, purring softly. “Is there anything I can give you that you’d like?”

“More times like this, Gwen.”

“That’s fine with me. Perhaps, in a few decades, we’ll be closer to understanding each other. We have millennia, now, together, with luck. Give it time, my sweet Erin.”

“I know.” I snuggle against her, my arms wrapped around her neck. “Do we have time before all our meetings for one more, well… you know…”

“Such a charming full-body blush you have, my dear. Ah, yes… we have time for this, and this…”

Time spins away, the outer world forgotten for a spell, the universe consisting of just the two of us, exploring, reaching places we’ve never touched before. The breeze blows coolness across our passion, and the morning flows by, unnoticed.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty-One

Ah, finally, I think, as I shut the heavy ironwood doors behind me with a soft shushing sound. I love spending time in Gwen’s library; it’s quiet, removed from the hustle and bustle of the household and somewhere I can sit and think sometimes. This week has been so damn hectic, trying to get all the midwinter plans set up, getting ready for high-ranking guests and their entourage… plus working out details on negotiation tactics with the Samos. That, in itself, has been a migraine.

I walk over to one of the shelves that stretch from floor to ceiling, and browse rather mindlessly, looking for something to catch my eye before taking it down from the stacks. Books from PrimeLine, as well as my time line, line the walls in orderly rows. A bibliophile’s wet dream, I think, smiling. I’m about halfway down the middle row facing me when I suddenly become aware of someone else in the room.

“Gwen?” I turn, looking over at her favorite high-backed, leather-clad chair by the fireplace. I’ve found her curled up there many an evening, often with two or three small children perched on her lap, listening raptly as she reads to them, her voice almost hypnotic in the dark room. Great way to get kids ready for bed, I think, irreverently, and walk over toward the chairs.

Expecting to see Gwen’s mahogany-red hair, and long, aquiline, tanned face, I’m startled half to death to see someone else. There’s a woman, dressed in Draka black, sitting in Gwen’s chair, looking at me out of wide, grey eyes. Her white blonde hair is short, cut in a bob, and shades her forehead. Twin ruby Draka glint from her collar, and I recognize the Archonal signet ring on her left hand, her thumb.

“Ah, your pardon, ah, uhmis…I thought there was someone else here… please forgive me for…” I look again into her eyes, from my hastily-assumed kneeling position, and freeze. Where have I seen those eyes before, my mind yammers. Oh, jeezie petes, Erin, it’s…

“Well, Erin Kane d’Ingolfsson. My daughter’s favorite. She would pick a damnyank, now wouldn’t she?” The woman’s voice is elf-light, haunting. The rhythm is peculiar to my ears, and I remember watching vidclips of PrimeLine Draka history, and the odd way they spoke… it’s… it can’t be; she’s dead, over four hundred years ago…

“Do you know who I am, wench?” An amused smile plays across her face, and I recognize it. It’s the same odd, closed-in curve of a smile that Gwen uses. It’s true, then… it’s crazy, but it’s true? The woman looking at me is Yolande Ingolfsson?

“Uh, uh… uhmis, I’m not sure…” I stutter, my face turning deep red. My knees are trembling; if this is a hologram, it’s a god-damned good one. I can see her shadow. Her fingers make a slight rasping noise as they shut a volume of poetry, leaving a silken ribbon in place as a marker. Her shoes make a tapping noise as she moves smoothly to stand in front of me, hands on hips. The amused smile is still playing over her face, and I duck my head down, back into the proper position of reverence.

“I think you do know. Who am I, pretty-girl?”

I glance up, and feel a trickle of cold sweat work its way down my spine. “Uhmis, this serf thinks you’re the Archon Yolande Ingolfsson.”

“Quite right.” She holds my chin in a small hand, tilting my head up to look at her. The touch of her hand is cool, almost cold, but her fingers are almost as strong-seeming as Gwen’s are. Or any other Draka’s. I shiver. “You’re quite interesting looking. I expected a great beauty, which you’re really not, but you’re not bad-looking, either. Interesting, indeed. Come sit with me for a few moments, why don’t you.”

She lets go of my chin and walks back to the chair and the fireplace. A log pops and I jump as I stand; she chuckles softly, like tiny bells ringing in a forest clearing. “Come, little wench, sit here by the fire. I don’t bite. Hard.”

“Um, thank you, Uhmis the Archon.” I sit on the floor, by the grate of the fireplace, and wrap my arms about my knees. My heart’s going a mile a minute, and I wonder what to say.

“Gwen’s told me a lot about you. She thinks very highly of you, human. You should be honored.”

I blink for a moment, and then nod. “I am, Uhmis the Archon. I live to serve.”

“You’re quite the bright girl, Gwen says.”

“Thank you, Uhmis the Archon, I’m sure.”

Yolande shifts in the chair, drawing her legs up underneath her. I wonder why that seems familiar, and then realize it’s another Gwen mannerism. Gwen must have copied a lot from her mother, I think, but hopefully not everything. I remember the data disk Gwen gave me on Yolande, and what she did to that poor Marya woman… jeezie petes, get me out of here, someone, I think silently to myself. The fire, usually so calming, is merely drying the fear sweat that’s running down my sides. I shiver.

“I think from your reaction that Gwen didn’t inform you that I’d be here.”

“No, Uhmis the Archon.”

“Hmm… perhaps she was going to surprise you. You’re allowed to wander in your Mistis’… I mean, your Muhmis’ library, at will?”

“Yes, Uhmis the Archon. Gwe--I mean, Muhmis has given me permission to do so, when I have all my work done for the day.”

“You have permission to call her Gwen?” A coldly raised eyebrow daunts me, and I duck my head.

“Y-y-y-es, Uhmis the Archon. But only when we’re in private. Forgive my transgression, please. I’m kind of nervous right now, please…”

“Yes, indeed you are. Breathe deeply, wench, or you’re going to pass out on me. Do it.”

Her voice has the hardness of command in it, and I obey, slowing and deepening my breathing until I feel calmer. My hands are still trembling, though, and I still feel icy trickles of sweat making their way down my back. The cedar logs in the fireplace smell good, I think, and try to focus on that to help me relax. I look up into her face, seeing the pointy-chinned, broad-cheeked beauty of her, and try to think of something to say.

The doors shush open and Gwen strides in, wearing a long blue robe with a sash. “Sorry I’m running a bit late, but the paperwork is unbelievable around here, Mother… oh. I see you’ve met Erin. Erin, my mother, Yolande Ingolfsson.”

“Yes, we’ve met.” Yolande turns back to me, since I’ve stood up as Gwen walks toward us, half hoping to escape, maybe. “Sit down, wench. Stop shivering. You can’t be cold, sitting almost in the fireplace like you are. Is she normally this silly, or nervous, Gwen? I wouldn’t have thought it.”

“No,” Gwen chuckles, settling in a chair opposite her mother’s. “She’s just not sure what to think of you.”

“What do you think of me, wench?” Yolande turns her wide grey eyes to me, after smiling warmly at her daughter.

“I’m… Uhmis the Archon, I… well… I’m not sure what to think. How’d you get here?”

“By aircar. I didn’t fly in on a broom…” she laughs, and Gwen joins her, their voices blending, one elfin and high, the other huskier and more sensual somehow. I blush.

“But… are you a hologram, Uhmis the Archon? I mean no disrespect…”

“A hologram? No. I’m a… what are they calling us, Gwen? The Resurrected?”

Gwen’s chuckle deepens. She reaches out, gesturing to me to move next to her chair, and I scoot over, looking up at her for reassurance. I lay my head on her knee, and feel her hand stroking through my hair gently. “That’s a good name for it. That might spook the humans a bit, though. They don’t have quite our sense of humor, Mother. Erin, she’s… well, the closest thing I can come to in your version of English is android, although that’s not quite right. She’s a living being, flesh and blood, with the memories of my mother implanted in her brain. Basically, a copy of my mother, although she’s drakensis abilities, not just human ones.”

“Oh,” I say, in a tiny voice, my eyes widening as I look over at the woman in the chair.

“Yes, I still have to get used to combining human memories and drakensis abilities, dear. I squashed a perfectly good glass of claret earlier today, completely by accident. This is an interesting experience.”

“It must be.” Gwen’s voice is warm, and the two Draka reach out to hold hands in the flickering firelight as I watch, bemused and somewhat confused.

**  
“What do you mean, Yolande’s here? I thought she was, well, dead, y’know. What’s up? Gods alive, you’re white as a sheet, sheila!” Alice wraps her arms around me and holds me close; I’m still shaking from the evening spent sitting next to Gwen, listening to her and her mother chat. Her resurrected mother, no less. I shudder even more, remembering the huge grey eyes.

“Hey, shhh… it’s okay, darling. It’s all right, you’re here with me. Alice, remember?” Her gentle kisses bring me back to the here and now, and I look up into her cool blue eyes with a sense of relief. Alice can calm me down like no one else, sometimes not even Gwen and her pheromones.

“It’s just so… weird… Alice.”

“Yeah, sounds like it. But you’re here, with me, and dinner’s ready. C’mon, let’s eat some of this wonderful steak I fixed, working me fingers to the bloody bone for you…”

I laugh out loud, despite my nerves. “Worked your fingers to the bone? How, by unwrapping your linen napkin?”

“Oh, so your sense of humor’s returning? Then you must be getting better.” She gives me a playful swat on the fanny and we sit down to eat. The steak is well-done, the way I like it, and the salad’s fresh from the Household gardens. I tear my homemade bread apart and use it to sop up some of the steak bits, relishing the fresh-bread taste and texture. The smell is divine, and somehow comforting. It must remind me of Mamaw, I think, as I sip at my second cup of coffee.

“Your appetite isn’t slowed down any, either, is it?” Alice comments, chewing the last of her green beans hungrily. She grins at me, and winks.

“No, not noticeably. That, or other appetites…” I caress her firm calf with a toe, under the table. She giggles, and smiles sexily back at me. Sometimes being alone with her, in our own place, is sexier than anything else, I think to myself, and rising from the table, I take her by one hand, the bottle of wine and a couple of glasses with the other, and lead the way into the bedroom.

**

“Oh, that was… intense. You’re usually not so… assertive. Been learning from Gwen?” Alice stretches and then pulls the covers up to snuggle in. The evening has gotten cold; even in the former Kentucky, the winter does pack a nip or two. I nestle down next to her, grinning unrepentantly.

“Oh, just a thing or two…”

“Hey, let me catch my breath first, wench!” A friendly wrestling match ensues, with me ending up on top.

“Hmm… interesting perspective. Usually, you’re up here, tickling me unmercifully.” I look down into my wife’s face, noticing for the first time the streaks of grey coming into her blonde hair, by her temples. Crow’s feet by her eyes, too, and the lines by her mouth have deepened. A surge of protective love washes through me, and I gently caress Alice’s face with both hands.

“I think that rejuve has made some pretty major changes in you, love. I don’t mind, not one bit.” She smiles up at me, holding my hands in hers. “It’s kind of nice, actually.”

“We talked about it before it happened… are you wanting to change your mind? About not being jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous. It was Gwen’s decision, lover, not really yours. I think even if you’d thrown a fit and said no, she’d still have done it. You’re that important to her, and her plans.”

“But you’re important to me, Alice, all her plans or no.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I know, and I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. I know I am, being with you. After all the shit I went through, to finally end up with someone who loves me for who I am, and doesn’t mind my past…”

“Past, schmast. It’s done and over. I love you. For you. Period.” I lean down and kiss her firmly. “Truly.”

“Please don’t worry about me being jealous. I’m not. I’m not sure I’d really want the rejuve, actually.”

I sit back, then slide off her, to sit down on my side of the bed, my hands still touching hers. “Really? I figured the Shopping Queen of the Known Universe would want a rejuve, just to expand her shopping horizons. Imagine all the sales you could find, the bargains, if you didn’t have to hurry…”

Alice traces my grin with a finger. “Nah. I love shopping, but I think two lives, mine and the one Gwen’s granted me, is enough. I don’t think I want an unlimited one. Even though that means one day you’ll be without me.”

“I know. I’m not looking forward to that, believe me.”

“It’s gotta be hard, sweetie. Knowing that. I mean, you can make friends with Draka, as much as we can, but even they can get killed in stupid duels and what-not. You’re the only one, human or servus, or even what-are-they-called… kawtuh… that’s got an unlimited lifespan. Like our Overlords.”

“Mh-hhm.” I nod, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Believe me, I know.”

“Hey, darling, it’s… I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. Please… hey…” Alice sits up and hugs me close.

“It’s okay. I’m just adjusting to it, Ally. It’ll take some time. I’ve talked with Gwen about it some. I’ll be okay. In time.”

“On top of all that, you got to meet Yolande Ingolfsson. Man, what a week you’ve had.”

“Jeezie petes, Ally, that was so weird. I mean, to be browsing in the library, and then see her just sitting there. I thought I was seeing a ghost or something, or that one of the kids was playing a joke on me with a hellacious hologram…”

“Is she staying here?” Alice shivers.

“Yeah, she’ll be here for several months, at least and that’s something we need to have a Household staff meeting over. Gwen told me via transducer to schedule one.”

“Why?” Alice wraps the quilt around us both, and we lean back against the headboard of our bed, one of our favorite talking places.

“Yolande’s used to more deference and stuff than the everyday, run of the mill Draka is. And they’re kinda hard to please, anyway. But she’s different. The way I understand the file Gwen sent me as I was leaving them this evening, Yolande has a drakensis body, and basically they grew her brain. Implanted memories via transducer. She’s not exactly Yolande Ingolfsson, but she’s damn close. And she’s got the same attitudes she lived with, on PrimeLine.”

“Like whips and torture and all that? Good god!”

“Well, no… but she doesn’t really trust us the way Gwen’s generation does; and, she’s not used to being in a drakensis body. She was complaining about smashing a glass of wine this evening, when she forgot her own strength. She’s doing some major adjusting, to this timeline, as well as being conscious. She’s the first one that’s turned out to be viable, according to the file. The others sort of, well, didn’t wake up. So she’s a stranger in a strange land, and we need to tell the staff that she’s got expectations of them that may be… more stringent… than they’re used to.”

“Is she going to have staff of her own?” Alice runs a hand through her shoulder-length blonde hair in distraction. It’s a gesture I know well; it means she’s planning, or thinking.

“Yeah, Gwen thought maybe some of the younger kids, children of Household staff, could begin to train for that. Their youth will give them time to adjust to her, and vice versa. She’s not going to be overly sadistic or anything… no more repetitions of that controller cuff thing, but still… her attitudes are different, especially about us damnyanks.”

Alice chuckles. “She still thinks of you that way?”

“Yep.” I grin. “Once a damnyank, always a damnyank, according to her. She said something about that when she met me this evening, something about her daughter’s favorite being a damnyank.”

“Oh. Are you going to have problems there, do you think?”

I shrug. “No, I hope not. It’s kinda out of my hands, you know? I serve Gwen to the best of my abilities, cause it’s either that or nothing, and maybe I can moderate their impact on us, that kind of thing, but Gwen and I have developed a friendship over the years, too. I can be a little proud of that, because there’ve been times I’ve wanted to just scream and whack her on the head, and I’m sure those feelings are mutual. But we manage, and it’s worth all the work and frustration.”

“Yeah, you are really close to her. I mean, you can predict her moods and all, read her really well. Better than anyone else. I’m surprised Andri’s not more jealous than he is.”

“He’s still jealous?” I roll my eyes in exasperation. Her former favorite, a handsome servus man, is known for his jealousy, but I thought we worked all that out the last go-round we had, years ago.

“Oh, well, it’s just little things Tom says he says, y’know. Nothing serious.”

“Hell, he’s her favorite servus. I can’t help it if I’m her favorite human. Not like we get a lot of choice there, either. Maybe I need to talk with him again.”

“Erin, no… the last time you did, he wandered about in a daze, like an Abo on walkabout, for two weeks. He was scared silly of you. Too, you’re her favorite, period. Human, servus, or kawtuh. That’s something he’s not used to dealing with.”

“I didn’t do anything to scare him… jeeze… all I did was try to explain that if we work as a team, many hands make light work. Then he acts like I threatened to geld him, which I didn’t… Gwen starts wondering what’s going on, and finally solved that whole issue by boinking the living hell out of both of us for an entire day and night. I was barely able to walk, afterwards.”

Alice laughs wickedly. “Oh, yeah, I remember that. But you were in better shape than he was. More stamina, or just more cussedness.”

“Probably the latter.” I grin.

“Probably!” We laugh and snuggle; Alice caresses my head until I get sleepy. When I’m settling down to sleep next to her, head pillowed on one of her thighs, I look up into her face, lit by the moonlight streaming in the windows. Alice has a blank look on her face, telling me she’s working via transducer, scheduling the meeting for the Household staff. I sigh with contentment and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

The shower stings as I slowly turn under the hot spray. It feels wonderful, though, after my workout. I’ve become quite a fitness fanatic, but only out of a sense of self-preservation; it’s the only way I can keep up with Gwen and the rest of my world without collapsing out of exhaustion. The workouts have been personally designed for me by the resident Gym Master Gwen hired on; the man’s got no sense of humor, that’s for damn sure, I think as I massage my upper arms. None at all.

It’s a group, open-style shower here in the gym; Draka sort of laughed at human ideas about nudity in general, but they actually allowed two separate shower sections in their plans. One for men and one for women; the outcry and the lowered usage (probably more than anything) decided that for them, I think. They’d rather have extra room, anyway, and they certainly don’t like smelly humans. Or humans who are smellier than they need to be, I chuckle. A few rather enthusiastic scrubbings, and everyone here at the Household got the idea, and the folks in the village certainly did, too. Personal hygiene isn’t a “maybe” thing here; it’s a “have to”. Not that I mind, of course.

A group of chattering, laughing young women come in as the aerobics class ends; shirts, shorts and shoes fly everywhere as they race each other under the faucets. I busy myself shampooing my hair, and smile at the couple that end up next to me. They look started for a moment, and then I notice that they move to the other end of the room, where most of the group has congregated. Hmm, that’s odd, I wonder. I’m almost done, and I never make passes at people in showers, not unless it’s Alice, Jennifer or Gwen. What’s going on? I scrub the last of the herbal-scented shampoo out of my hair and rinse once again for fun, meanwhile eyeing the group surreptitiously.

The chattering has died down to a murmur, but that could just be respect for my position, not a sign of… nervousness? Fear? A definite sense of uneasiness has come over the room, and my arms get goose bumps as I notice how the women are looking at me. Sideways glances, eyes wide, mouths closed. A glance or two, and then a whispered comment to their neighbors. This is really weirding me out, folks, I think, and the smile goes away from my face. I wring my hair to get some of the excess water out of it, and step from the showering room to the locker area.

The scent of cedar wood is strong here; the floors and benches scattered around the room are made of the aromatic wood; the lockers are brightly-painted, with floral designs running around their softened edges. Skylights, the glass somewhat etched to preserve our privacy (a laughable thing for the Draka architect, but I still talked him into it, over a lunch and some moonshine Bret had cooked up), let the light flow in from outside, warming the room in a gentle yellow glow. I feel anything but warm, though; as I walk into the room, a group of older women from the swimming pools gather up their things and leave. What the hell? I look down, trying to see if I have a sign on, you know, one that says, “If you see this woman, leave immediately!” Nope, nothing there.

I dry myself off briskly and jump into some jeans and a sweater; whisking my hair into some semblance of a “do”, I finish as quickly as I can, and leave the public area. I walk down the tree-shaded path, the leaves still clinging to the trees as if they’re rejecting the whole idea of Midwinter in general. It’s cool, but not cold; no snow or ice, yet. The chips of pine along the path fill the air with their antiseptic, crisp smell, and I scuff my boots through a pile of them. A squirrel chirrs at me from a safe perch in one of the trees, its tail bottled and its mouth full of nuts, apparently. You, too? I ask mentally, and make a chirp or two back at it; it scampers further up the tree, and gives me down the road about fussing at it. How dare I? I grin, and keep on walking, my spirits temporarily lifted.

The Midwinter celebration’s scheduled for tonight; the last-minute preparations are taking place all around me. Tents, able to withstand subzero temperatures, are being set up for late-arriving guests and their retinues; most of the Draka and their servants have already arrived, and have rooms either in the Great House or in the adjoining cottages, guesthouses, really. Aircars have just about filled up the parking areas by the landing site, I notice, and make a mental note to tell Alice. She’ll want to make sure the handlers have the aircars where they can be retrieved quickly, for guests who want to do some shopping in Lexington. Glow lamps have been set up all along this pathway and all around the Great House. They look like floating versions of gas lamps from the nineteen-hundreds, I think, and watch as one bobs by me, casting its warm orange-yellow light in a nimbus.

I head toward the barns; I have a feeling Bret will know what to think about the strange behavior in the shower rooms more than anyone else will. He’s a fount of knowledge in many ways; he knows all there is to know about horses; at times, even Muhmis defers to his opinion on certain horsey things. I don’t know much about them, except what I’ve managed to learn. I don’t fall off them so quickly anymore, I muse, and grin, remembering my first few riding lessons. Man, was I sore afterwards, and not just from being in the saddle. I don’t think I spent enough time in the saddle the first few weeks to get saddle-sore. I was more sore from falling off, actually. Once I got my sea legs, or horse legs, things went better. But Gwen sure had fun laughing at me for awhile, and so did Bret.

“Hey, girl,” Bret murmurs, as he looks up from his desk. It’s cluttered with bits of leather and harness, and unidentifiable pieces of metal that probably have something to do with a horse’s getup; stray pieces of straw and hay, and the occasional oat or bran cake piece, compete for room with paperwork and his pipe and ashtray. A lamp hangs over the desk, a hurricane lantern like Mamaw and Papaw had in their barn, and it swings softly in the evening breeze. “What brings you down here? Just slummin’?”

“Slumming? No way. This is like home, or the closest thing I’ve got to it around here. I like hanging out with y’all, Bret.” I sit on the rickety chair next to his desk, making sure the left front leg is securely in its socket. The chair has an alarming, and for the observers, amusing, tendency to fall apart. Getting the leg secure is the key, I’ve found. I settle back against the chair, looking around inside the big barn. It’s clean, but messy. Worked in, not a showroom, I realize, as I watch three young men hoisting hay bales up to a man and a woman, who stack them neatly in the loft.

“Well, we like it when you come down here, anyway. Had dinner yet?” Bret packs his pipe, a battered old one, with some sort of fragrant tobacco, and commences trying to light it. I’ve noticed he spends more time messing with the dang thing than he does smoking it; maybe that’s the point of having a pipe.

“No, just finished my workout,” I begin.

Bret laughs. “You come on down here, missy, and we’ll make sure you get a real work out, right, folks?” The hay-stacking group laughs at his joke, and a brief, but warm, smile crosses his seamed, ebony dark face. His eyes, black and usually unreadable, are warm as they look me over. I grin and blush a little.

“I know. I know. I used to do work like this, and now all I do is push electrons or paper around. Then I have to jump up and down, wave my arms around, all that jazz, just to stay in shape. I really should come down here to work out; I’d probably get a better one. It’d be more fun, anyway.”

“Something bothering you, honey?” Bret says, sitting on the side of his desk, puffing contentedly on his pipe. I inhale the wonderful scent of the tobacco, and try to relax. 

“Yeah, a little. But then again, you’re pretty damn good at reading me, aren’t you now?”

A puff or two. “Yeah, gotten pretty good at that over the last few years.”

“Okay. Here it is. How come people are acting weird around me all of a sudden?”

“Weird? How?”

I sigh. “Well, like eyeing me and whispering, and leaving the room when I come in. Stuff like that. I noticed it today, but maybe it’s been going on for a longer time, I don’t know. All I know is that it weirded me out today in the gym showers. It’s never been like that before, and I figured if something was up, you’d know about it. So what’s up?”

Bret puffs for a long moment, eyeing me. Then he fiddles with the pipe for some time. I know not to bug him; he’ll tell me when he’s ready. Finally, after looking off toward the far end of the barn, where a young woman, an apprentice farrier, is learning how to shoe a horse, rather painfully, I notice, Bret clears his throat. That’s a sure sign he has something to say that he’s not very comfortable with, I know, and inwardly I wince.

“Well, honey, it’s…” A long pause. “It’s kinda dumb. Stupid, actually. What it is--they’re reacting to you all shy and like that because of your rejuvenation thing. People’ve been talking.”

“Talking? About that? Why?”

“Talking about how it’s not natural; or that you really died and the person sittin’ across from me ain’t human anymore. Something the Draka made to look like you. Or that you have some of their powers now, and people have to be careful around you. You know, like what they think or say. Almost like you’ve become a junior Draka, I guess. It’s dumb, but ignorant people can think of some dumb things.”

“But… I haven’t been acting any differently to anyone. I mean, I work out more, and sleep less, and I guess I eat more, but that’s it… I mean, I don’t have drakensis abilities or anything. I’m still me, I just don’t age anymore.”

“I know that, and my folks know that, but a lot of the people in the village and some of the ones in the Great House don’t know that. And word gets around, and little things become big things. Like how you don’t ever sleep anymore, so you must be an android or something. Hell, I know it sounds stupid, but it’s what people’re saying.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve been damn busy, from what I’ve seen and heard, doing all that preparation work for the big negotiations and stuff coming up. Plus all the fixin’s for the Midwinter thing. It starts tonight, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Bret reaches over and in a very rare gesture, squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll be okay. The clouds’ll blow over. Don’t let ignorant people worry you. I’ve talked with some folks, the ministers and all, and they’ll be spreading the word. You’re still one of us, no matter whether you ain’t getting’ any older or not. You’re still Erin Kane, and you’re still human. No matter what those silly wenches were whispering about. All right? Don’t let it bother you.”

I reach up and hold his weathered, callused hand in both of mine. I wait for a moment, gathering my voice back, and finally get out, “Thanks…”

“Hell, don’t worry about it. Just glad to set you straight on some stuff. You knew who to come talk to, didn’t you?” He squeezes my hand once more and lets go, standing up and puffing energetically on his pipe. “Want to come over to the worker’s cafeteria for dinner? My old lady’s at church tonight, so I’m sort of on my own. Hear tell they’re having some good steak tonight…”

“Hmm… that sounds great. But won’t it be, well, embarrassing for you to sit with--be seen with-- Mutant Woman?” I grin up at him.

“Mutant Woman… great balls of fire, woman, the things you think of. Naw, I’m not ashamed to sit with you or be seen with you. Come on, get off your old duff, and come eat dinner with me. I’ve got to go eat now, so I can get back here and supervise the rest of the hay storage and what-not. Come on, girl!” He nods his head toward the front entrance of the barn, and I jump up from the chair.

“Okay, lead the way, old man!” 

Bret laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle, and walks with me to the worker’s cafeteria, on the other side of the barn complex, where the aroma of steak and coffee greet us at the door. My stomach rumbles hungrily and Bret chuckles again, holding the door open for me to enter. Bright light washes out into the darkness, and people call greetings to us as we come inside. It feels like home.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gwen’s sitting at her desk, eyes blank, reviewing the latest data on the Samothracians. The first true negotiation session is just a few minutes away; I nervously pace, near the porthole, looking out over the cold, black and white landscape of Titan. I walk quietly, trying not to disturb Muhmis as she prepares. The last few months have been hell as far as work goes, I think; if I hadn’t been rejuvenated, I’d be a mess by now. But I’ve been needing less sleep, and I have more energy than I used to, so things worked out well. I bet everyone back at the Household and the Draka capital on my Earth, BLIBBIT, is catching up on lost sleep.

I walk over to the mahogany desk Gwen’s sitting at; her usual leopard-like ease seems tense today. I stroke a hand across the back of her neck, under the heavy braid of thick, dark red hair, and feel the rock hard muscles twitch under my touch. She’s tense, I realize, and I need to get her more relaxed before the session begins. There’s one tried and true way…

Picking up one of her long-fingered hands, I slowly begin licking the tips of her fingers, then sucking each finger delicately down to the palm of her hand. Her eyes flash up at me, leaf-green, luminous, somewhat aggravated, and then she realizes from my look of concentration what I’m trying to do. Muhmis sits back, sighing, and strokes one hand down my face, lingering at my mouth. I smile lecherously, and continue doing what I’m doing. I know from years of experience, this is one thing that always turns her on a great deal, and that’s what she needs right now…

“Ah…” A deep sigh, and she stands, pulling me close for a long, deep kiss. I press against her, letting my hands roam enticingly; she shudders slightly and smiles, a purr building in her chest. “You little vixen… we don’t really… mmmhhh… have time… enough for… ahhh…”

“Oh, yes, Muhmis, we have time enough to relax you. I checked.” I kiss along the line of her throat, feeling her pulse, rapid anyway, speed up under my mouth.

“Mhh… well, then… by all means…” Gwen chuckles, and begins to unfasten her formal blacks. They fall to the floor in a heap, neither of us paying much attention to clothes anymore. “Mmmhhh… kneel to me, Erin. Yes, like that…my pretty pony-girl.”

I go to my knees, hands spreading her steel-hard thighs, stroking them delicately, precisely. Her scent invades my nose, and my mouth waters, conscious thought vanishing as lust, both chemically induced by her pheromones and psychologically induced, by my love for her, roars into my mind. My hands begin to tremble, and I’m glad I’m already on my knees. She tastes so divine…

A few minutes later, Gwen gasps, and I hear something that sounds like wood cracking. I don’t pay much attention, trying to be as pleasant as possible for her; the long thighs tensing next to my head, and one of her hands stroking through my hair serve to keep me on task for the moment. I hear her low growl of excitement turn into a brief, ear-bruising hawk-shriek of pleasure, and then she’s pulling me up onto my feet, into her arms.

She shakes her other hand loose from the arm of the chair she was gripping in her passion, and wood patters to the floor, the mahogany shattered in her clutch. I giggle, and whisper, “Glad that wasn’t me!”

“Never you, darlin’… I’m careful…” Gwen whispers back, and then kisses me, hard. “That was lovely… just what I needed…”

“Archon Ingolfsson?” A black-uniformed young Draka enters the quarters, bearing the Archonal Staff for Earth/2. “We’re almost ready to… oh, excuse me. But it is near time to…”

“Yes, yes, Hrolf. I know. Be right there.” She grins at him, and he wolf-grins right back, his face flushing red under white-blonde hair as he scents, and sees, what’s been happening. “Erin, fetch a towel, quickly, sweet wench.”

I hurry off to the head, bringing back a damp towel and a dry one, and a new set of formal blacks for Gwen to wear. The others have to be a bit mussed by now, I think. I think I was kneeling on them. Oops. I swiftly kneel back down in front of Gwen, and gently clean her up. She purrs slightly as I do so, and they continue their conversation.

“I received your files this morning, Archon; very complete. I was quite impressed. That’s a lot of information compressed into a small space. Your staff did well.”

“Yes, I’m proud of them. Erin, here, is their coordinator, my Prime Councilor. She’s very helpful in a number of ways.” Gwen grins down at me, smoothing my hair with one of her hands. “I enjoy her a great deal.”

“Yes, indeed. Perhaps…” The young Draka pauses, apparently checking my transducer codes. “Well, perhaps not… although she is a fine specimen of human. Have any others like her, Archon Ingolfsson? I’d like to try one out sometime.”

“She’s off limits, as I think you noticed just now, but there are plenty of others. I’ll have a catalog made up, and you can pick and choose at your leisure. How’s that?” Gwen moves her legs for me, and I finish toweling her dry.

“Here, Muhmis, a new uniform. That one’s a bit…wrinkled. Sorry.”

“No problem, sweet.” She steps into the pants, and I slide her hand-tooled, soft leather boots on. Shrugging into the tunic, she gestures for me to stand.

You’re welcome, I send to her.

Her head snaps around, eyes full of amusement. THANK YOU, DEAR! blasts into my head, and I stagger slightly. Hrolf looks oddly at me, probably wondering why I’m shaking my head…

“I think we’re more than ready for this session, Hrolf. Don’t you?”

He smiles again. “Yes. The plans are ready; we just have to put up with some Samothracian nonsense for a bit…”

“I think our team will be interesting to them. Don’t you think so, Erin?” Gwen turns her green gaze back to me, and strokes my face. My head’s still ringing, but I manage to nod. What’s she… oh. Oh, yeah. Oh, boy. The Damn Sams, as Tom’s nicknamed them, don’t know who’s waiting for them…

“Ready, Archon?” Hrolf Venders nods toward the door, and Gwen nods.

“Let’s go hunting, shall we?” Muhmis starts to walk out the door, turns around abruptly, and kisses me. In my head, I hear her say: And I promise payback for that relaxation session will be most impressive, indeed, darlin’… come along when you’re ready, and sit by my chair.

“Yes, Muhmis.” I bow, blushing, and Hrolf smiles fondly at me as they both walk out into the corridor.

“Really, quite a nice little human you’ve got there, Elder. You’ll have to show me that catalog,” he says, just as the door shuts. That’s right, he’s something like Myfwany Venders’ great-great-grandson, I think. Sort of related to Muhmis…

I pick up the towels and her mussed uniform, and drop them in the recycler. I quickly strip, and drop my clothes in there, too, before getting into the shower for a few moments of privacy. Leaning against the shower stall, letting the hot water spray over me, I take a deep breath and… scream. Scream until I can’t breathe anymore. No one can hear me; if Security notices, Gwen’ll ask me about it. I think she understands. I hope she does.

We’re reduced to catalogs, now, the tiny voice in my head whispers. Catalogs. I wonder if they have video clips, or just pictures. Ratings as to how good each pet human is in bed, perhaps? I wonder how well rated you are, my dear?

My throat’s sore from the scream and I sit down on the floor of the shower for a minute or two. I can keep that little snide voice under control most of the time, it’s just some of the time it bothers me. A lot. I’ve done my best, I think to myself, I’ve tried to preserve our rights as much as I can… I’m doing all I can, damn it. I can’t do any more. And the blow-job just now wasn’t merely part of my job description, no matter what you think, you little weasel voice. I meant to make her happy…

Oh, yes, you’re soooo good at making your owner happy, she’s so proud of you. What a good slave you’ve made…

Shut up. Shut up, damn you. Hell, I get an unlimited lifespan, and I get stuck listening to you? A hell of a lot of good you do me, damn it. Try something constructive…

Well, you could get the belt from your darling Muhmis’ uniform, tie it over the shower head, and jump off the side of the stall; it should work, after a fashion. Is that constructive enough for you?

More like a bit too constrictive. I chose life, and nothing you can say will ever make me take it back. Too, if I did something stupid like that, my transducer would alert Gwen, and they’d revive me, and then I wouldn’t be able to sit for a month or so. No thanks. Not for me. I’ll deal with life, no matter how shitty you, dear voice, make it sound.

I find myself thinking about what I’m thinking about, and start to chuckle. If Peter could see me now… sitting in the bottom of a shower stall, on Titan, arguing with myself, he’d say something like: “Miss Thang, you’re getting all wrinkly! Get out of that water, immediately, and do something nice with your hair, for god’s sake…”

Grinning like a possum, I finish the shower and get dressed, wondering what the first few moments in the negotiation chamber were like. I’ll have to get a download from Gwen, I think. I truly want to see the Samos’ faces when they see Yolande Ingolfsson sitting across from them…

**  
Gwen and Yolande come in, talking quietly. I look up briefly from the work I’m doing, and smile. The two Draka nod and amble over to the table in the generous guest quarters; I bend back to what I’ve been doing until Muhmis’ voice makes me look up again.

“Erin? Come over here.”

I sigh, ever so slightly, and put down my stylus. “Yes, Muhmis.”

“That’s what I was talking about, Gwendolyn. That little bit of hesitation. We’d never have tolerated that much, in my generation.” Yolande reclines at her ease, looking me over with those spooky grey eyes. The aroma of their coffee wafts over to me as I approach and stand, head down, hands held in front of me.

“Yes, but I like a little spice in my serfs. If you rip that out, you usually don’t end up with much, it’s been my experience. And your generation was human versus human, which put entirely a different set of stressors on the relationships. We’re luckier, in that way, now.”

Gwen turns to look up at me, her eyes growing more serious. “I had an interesting report from security earlier today. Why were you so upset, younglin’?”

Oh, the shower. Damn, I was hoping no one’d notice. I sigh, softly. “I was… it was… nothing, Muhmis. Just something I had to let out. Stress, I guess.”

Her hand flashes out and grabs my chin, raising my head up so our eyes meet. “I expect better than that from you, wench.” Muhmis’ voice is cool now, and the hairs start to stand up on my neck and along my arms.

“Uh, well… Muhmis…”

“Tell me why you were screaming in the shower. Now.”

I shift from one leg to the other, my head held immobile in her iron-like grip. She squeezes, ever so lightly, and I wince. “Please, Muhmis… it really was just stress. That’s all.”

“What set it off?”

I look her full in the face. “The catalog comment.” After a moment’s hesitation: “Muhmis.”

“Hmm?” Yolande says, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, she’s referring to a comment Hrolf Venders made earlier today, before the first negotiation session. He was hoping he could borrow Erin, here, but she’s mine, and mine alone. I said I could put together a catalog of some of the other wenches and pretty-bucks I have, on my Landholding, for his amusement.”

“Oh. Why did that upset you, wench?” Yolande looks me up and down, rather coldly. I shiver.

“P-p-please… I, uh…” Gwen gives my chin a warning jerk, and my eyes begin to fill with tears. “It just makes it seem like we’re things, not people, the catalog thing does, I mean, Uhmis Ingolfsson.”

The two Draka laugh, short wolf-like barks, and finally Yolande says, “You’re serfs. Period.”

“But I’m still a person.” My audacity surprises even me, and I hold my breath, waiting for the punishment for insolence I’m sure will follow. Shut up, girl, while you’re still standing, I say silently to myself, preparing for a spanking or something.

Yolande snorts. “A serf.”

“You’re my saafn, wench. You’re my property. I own a couple of thousand of you humans personally, and I’m planetary Archon, so over several billion of you are my property as head of state. Or do you want to debate that?” Gwen’s voice is hard, harder than I can remember it being for years. Her eyes have gone from luminous leaf green to cold, clear green slate, and my mouth goes dry as the Sahara.

“N-n-no, Muhmis. I meant no disrespect, honest.” My knees are trembling, and my stomach is acting like I’m learning how to deal with zero-g for the first time all over again. Oh, jeezie petes, idiot, you’ve annoyed her. Damn.

“How long have you been my serf?”

“Seventee--, no, eighteen years, Muhmis.”

“How long will you be my serf?”

I swallow drily, trying to get past the painful lump that’s in my throat now. Tears begin to trickle out of the corners of my eyes, and I curse myself. Damn weepy-eyed squid, get ahold of yourself. Bean-head. I finally manage to whisper, “All the years of my life, Muhmis.”

Gwen pulls me down, the strength in her hand and arm yanking me inexorably down to my knees. She tilts my head back, and smiles, a cold, predatory look crossing her face. “All the years of your life, human wench. All of them. Don’t make me remind you again anytime soon.”

I try to nod, but can’t move my chin in her grip. “Yes, Muhmis, I’m sorry…” My voice shakes and my stomach is seriously considering leaping fully out of my mouth and dying on the carpet. That would be unfortunate, I think, as the hatchway opens and two servus wheel in the lunch cart. They freeze, seeing the tableau, but Yolande waves them forward.

Muhmis sighs and lets go of my head. “Sit.” I sit.

The servus nervously set out their lunches, and one bobs her head by Gwen’s place. “Would the Overlord want a meal for her serf?”

Gwen turns to me and smiles, gently. The cold is still in her eyes, though, which makes me realize how much I’ve annoyed her. She usually bounces right back from these things, I think, but maybe with her sort-of mother here, things are different? “Hungry, wench?”

“No, Muhmis.”

“Fine.” Gwen turns back to the serving wench, and waves her and her companion out. “That’s all we’ll need, thank you.”

“You have made some significant advances food-wise, daughter-mine. Remember those awful, truly hideous reconstituted meals in the early days?” Yolande cuts her steak and inhales. “This is simply lovely.”

“Great Wotan’s Balls, I remember. We used to toss an auric to see who got first dibs on the food dispenser; on the Lionheart, if you got one of the first couple of meals, it wasn’t so bad, but even those… you couldn’t call them food. Fuel, perhaps, but not food.” Gwen chuckles and slices off a piece of chicken Dijon. Handing it to me between her fingers, she waits for me to take it.

I lean forward on my knees and take the piece of meat from my Muhmis’ hand, chewing slowly. Despite my stomach’s churnings, the chicken tastes quite good. “More, Erin?”

“No, thank you, Muhmis.”

“Suit yourself.” Gwen turns back to her conversation with Yolande. “You know, I wondered my first long flight out why you sent along that little care package I found in my quarters. But now I know.”

“Oh, yes… I remember pulling strings to get that aboard. Some candy, some venison jerky, and some gum. I knew you’d want it eventually. Was I being too doting a mother?”

“No, not at all. I really did end up living off it, and less off the so-called rations.” Gwen laughs, a husky, deep-throated sound that usually sends shivers of delight down my spine. It does today, too, but not as much as it usually does. I’m still too upset.

“Ah… Myfwany always had a sweet tooth, so I thought maybe you would, too. Gods… yes, I remember, some of the odd cravings I’d get on cruises. I never told anyone about them, either. One trip, I ended up wanting dill pickles. I ate a whole jar of them when I got back to Claestum, too. Another time it was peanuts. Odd, really. But the body does odd things when you’re out for a long run.”

“Yes. Erin, here, doesn’t know how lucky she is, with these sorts of rations. Do you?” Muhmis hands me a piping-hot cherry from her turnover, and I move it around in my mouth for a moment, trying not to burn my tongue.

“No, Muhmis. Thank you.” I manage to swallow the cherry, and sternly tell my stomach it better get ship-shape but fast, or else. I also remember the Navy rations at the training center, but I don’t bring that up. They don’t sound as bad as what these two Overlords are talking about, anyway. Even if we never did identify the meat they served on Tuesdays. The largest vote was for road-kill possum, but I thought that was being too kind. I always voted for armadillo, myself.

“Erin, clear off these trays, and straighten your uniform up, and we’ll be ready to go back for another round of negotiations, hmm?” Gwen sits back in her chair, sipping her coffee. Yolande watches me clear the table, and I pause before taking her tray.

“Uhmis Ingolfsson, are you ready for me to take this away?”

“Yes.”

I take the trays to the recycler and toss them in. Draka don’t leave much in the way of table scraps, I think. About the only thing left to recycle are the trays themselves. Amazing. I’m surprised they don’t just eat those, too. I step into the head and wash my hands. Looking up into the mirror hanging on the bulkhead, I’m sort of shocked to see how pale I am. Get a grip, girl. If only she didn’t have to be so damn definite on me being a serf forever, I think. God.

Gwen peers in, tying her hair back in a utilitarian club of thick, dark-red braids as she does so. “Are you getting any calmer?”

“I’m trying, Gw--Muhmis…” I say, quietly, and feel her hands cover mine as they grip the plasticrete of the sink. “Really, I am…”

“I know, but I need you to be, well, more presentable than you are right now. You’re upset, and I wish we had time to talk things out, but we don’t. Not right now.” Her voice is soothing, and I lean back against her, wishing for just a backrub or something.

“Here, sweet,” Yolande says, leaning round the hatchway, a spray-injector in her hand.

“What??” I try to jerk away from Gwen, but her arms hold me immobile.

“Ssssaaaa, Erin… no, please don’t struggle, this is just a small dose of dociline. It matters how you are, emotionally, right now--even a Samothracian could tell you’re upset. And because you’re mine, your appearance and countenance count. Hold still, my pretty-girl… come on, now…” Gwen takes one arm from around me and begins to put the spray-injector next to my neck.

“Nnnnnnnhhhhh!” I twist and shudder in her grasp, trying to slide down and out from her arms. I hear her snarl in frustration, and then Yolande’s holding me still. Her eyes bore into mine, and pure fear jolts through me. “Please, please, Gwen, no, no…. no…”

A subtle hiss, a sting, and then, just like that, I’m calm. Looking out of eyes that don’t really feel like mine, looking calmly into Yolande Ingolfsson’s eyes, feeling both her and Gwen loosening their hold on me. “Please?” I sigh. The anger and fear seem to have magically drained out of me, and the color’s coming back to my face, but inside, there’s a pang of sadness, of grief. Of outrage, maybe, buried deep inside where no one can find it. No one can find me there, either. Ever.

“There. That’s done. Not worth all that trouble, now was it?” Gwen whispers into my ear, and then kisses me softly. Yolande finally lets go of my arms, and chuckles.

“You give her too many kisses and not enough of the other end of the spectrum, woman.”

“This is just as enjoyable, though, and usually easier.” Gwen grins at the other Draka, and lets me go. I sag against her for a minute and then stand, brushing my hair out of my eyes slowly. “Too, if you strip them of all their beliefs, they’re usually less useful. And I like mine, like I said, with a bit of spice to them. You’ll get used to that, too, in time, Yolande.”

“I guess so,” the other woman answers, sounding doubtful. “It’ll be interesting, anyhow. We better get going, if we don’t want to be late. Is she going to be calm enough now?”

“Yes, I think so. Right, Erin?” Gwen caresses a finger down my cheek, and I smile at her.

“Of course, Muhmis. I’m sorry for the hissy fit.”

“Don’t be. We’ll talk more about all that later. You’re not in trouble, though, so don’t worry. Let’s go catch the shuttle floater down to the meeting room, my wench.”

We leave the cabin and sure enough the shuttle floater is waiting for us. I hop on board after Muhmis and Uhmis Ingolfsson, and take my place at the back of the floater. The quarters fly by, then the labs, and the huge shuttle bays. We stop several times to pick up or let off workers and other Draka. We come to one intersection where there’s a small group of Samothracian delegates waiting, and the floater obediently stops.

There’s an awkward pause, and no one moves for a second or two. The floater makes its little inquiring “bing” noise and waits, aware in its mechanical fashion that there are people waiting to ride but no one’s getting on or off. One of the Samothracians, an older man dressed in gray, clears his throat. “Perhaps we should wait for another?”

“No reason to. Plenty of room on board, and we are at truce. Climb aboard.” Gwen gestures, and reluctantly the little group of Samos does so. The floater happily “bings” once again, and smoothly picks up speed. The negotiation chambers approach, flanked on one side by a Draka honor guard, clad in reflective memet body armor, and on the other side by some Samothracian Shock Troops. I don’t like the looks the two sets of soldiers are throwing at each other, or the way the Samos look at me and the two or three other human serfs on the floater, but oh, well, I think, we are at truce, and Muhmis is here to protect me. Everything’s fine.

I feel someone nudge my knee and look down. I see a hand, and then follow it up to Emily’s face. The pretty young Samothracian grins, and then her eyes widen in alarm. She holds her communicator out so I can see the display. It reads:

Are you okay? You seem sort of spacey.

I nod.

What’s wrong? Have they drugged you, Erin? High Lord Above…

I nod, and smile.

Oh, Jesus and his saints. Is there anything I can do?

I shake my head no, and gently, slowly, press her hand once, then again. The floater sighs to a stop in front of the rooms, and the Draka dismount, first waving the Samothracians on in front of them. Gwen pauses, and reaches up for my hand as I step down.

Had a nice little conversation with your friend Emily?

Yes, Muhmis. I think Patrick would like her, don’t you?

A chuckle resonates inside my head. Already trying to play matchmaker, are you? She would make a pretty little pony to ride, though. Have to keep that in mind… come on, sweetlin’, let’s go play the game of negotiation again.

She leads me inside and I take my place behind her chair, slightly to her right, as the other delegates, Yolande Ingolfsson included, file in and find their spots. Emily sits toward the back of the room, a small frown on her face. I spot her mother walking rapidly away from her, her face set in anger. I guess Emily just got another lecture about consorting with the unclean, I think, and then Gwen’s requesting some document reviews from me via transducer, and its trance takes me over. I don’t really notice the discussion that ensues, although I know from experience I can play it back later.

The documents come up; I review them quickly, adding annotations and some links to other papers and treaties that I think might be helpful, and send them immediately to Gwen. She thanks me as she converses vocally with the others in the room and silently with other Draka, her sort-of mother included.

There’s a funny sort of itching feeling, suddenly, in my head, like my brain has poison ivy. I wince, rubbing my forehead, and then the feeling wells into a huge pain. Icy but burning at the same time, my head throbs like it’s about to split wide open. I gasp, softly, and lean forward. One of Gwen’s aides nods toward me, and I see Gwen turning to face me, her eyes widening in surprise and shock. Her lips move, but I can’t hear what she’s saying; my vision turns red, then black, and I have a sensation of falling down a long, dark tunnel… oh, but Alice, I wasn’t chasing the rabbit, though, I think, just before everything fogs into blackness.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

I wake to find myself in a bed, with a medcomp weighing down my left arm. I’m in the medical center of Titan’s dome, I realize, but why?

“Erin?”

I turn my head, slowly, to the right, and Gwen swims into focus. “Gwen?”

A chuckle. “So you know who I am?”

“Mmm… yeah. Oh, god, why does my head hurt so much? Oh, jeezie petes…” I close my eyes, feeling my stomach lurch in protest at the agony lancing through my skull.

Another voice answers. “Because you’ve had a bit of a rough time, little human, but we’ve got you stabilized now. You do need to answer a few questions, though.”

I peek through my eyelids in the general direction of the other voice, past Gwen’s head. A man’s standing there, wearing the prerequisite white coat. He’s Draka, that much is for certain; his blue eyes hold mine in a penetrating stare. “Um, well… yes, Uhmas… nnnhh…” I try to sit up, but that’s definitely not a good idea. Gwen gently pushes me back against the mattress.

“Just answer our questions, little ‘un. You don’t have to get up to do that. Do you remember what happened?”

I close my eyes and concentrate. “I was sending you some files you’d requested, and then… not much after that. We were in the negotiations area.”

“Right. What happened after you sent your Muhmis the files, wench?” The man sits down, and smiles, not unkindly. “I’m Doctor Rhinehart, by the way. Medical director here.”

“Glad to meet ya, doc,” I murmur, forgetting for a moment where and when I am. In my mind, I’m on the USS Solace, the hospital ship I was put on after the Nimitz went down. “Where’s Peter?”

“Peter?” Dr. Rhinehart sounds confused.

Gwen clears her throat, and the sound brings me back to the here and now, as she says, “Her best friend, companion in the old United States Navy, on Earth/2. I think she’s having a bit of slippage here. She’s back now. Right, Erin Kane d’Ingolfsson?” Her hand caresses mine briefly.

“Y-y-y-yes, Muhmis. Sorry.” I blink rapidly, trying to work up the nerve to open my eyes completely, despite the pain. Rhinehart reaches over and touches the medcomp on my arm, and the pain dulls into a level I can bear. The room pops into clear, sharp-edged focus. “Um, sorry, Uhmas the doctor.”

“Not a problem.” Aside, he says to Gwen, “We’ll have to watch that, though. Could be symptomatic of damage we haven’t found yet.”

“Damage? Uhmas? Muhmis? What happened? I guess I passed out or something?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Gwen leans forward, scanning my eyes. I shake my head, carefully, in a back and forth no.

“Try to tell us what you do remember. The last legible impression we have from your transducer is your sending the files to your Muhmis. Do you recall anything else? Any feelings, thoughts? Odd sensations?” The doctor sounds professionally curious as well as concerned.

“Um… well. Let’s see. I remember transferring the files… you did get them, didn’t you?” Gwen nods, smiling. “Okay, then… well, it was like I had an itch. An itch on my brain or something weird like that. Then my head hurt, really bad. It was icy cold but it burned…” I close my eyes and shudder. “The last thing I remember is thinking I was falling down a rabbit hole…”

“A rabbit hole?!” Rhinehart sounds amazed. Gwen just laughs, her husky, bronze-like tones ringing in the ward.

“A reference to an old Earth story, about a girl named Alice. Odd, though. Did you find the rabbit, Erin?”

I giggle softly. “No, can’t say as I did.”

“Itching, supposedly on your brain, then a cold, burning sensation? Anything else?” Rhinehart leans forward, looking at the medcomp for a moment.

“I know it sounds goofy. That’s the only way I can…” I pause, my memory bringing Peter back. Peter and me, at the poolside, at the House in Andros… how we were learning to send each other things via transducer. “Um, well… it was like when Peter and I were learning, Muhmis, with the transducer… when you were teaching us. How Peter would almost succeed in sending me something, and lose it at the last moment. It felt kinda like that.”

“As if someone was sending you information?”

“No, not exactly…” I frown. “No, Muhmis, it was like when I’ve got my calls screened, and some computer keeps trying to send me something, like my daily schedule. It didn’t have the same, well, resonance a person’s calls have. It was cold, colder than our computers at home. I wonder if I accessed some computer here by mistake?”

“No. We checked that…” Gwen sounds thoughtful. She leans back and closes her eyes for a moment; Rhinehart waits respectfully until she reopens them. “As if something was trying to break through your transducer codes, your security codes, Erin?”

“Yes! Yeah, that’s it. That’s what it was like. What happened?”

“I’m starting to have some interesting suspicions. Doctor, have a tech come in and carefully go through the girl’s transducer. We’ll have to put you to sleep for a bit, darlin’. I want any trace of a probe being launched at her tracked down. I want to know who did this, and why.”

“Yes, Archon. Right away.” He reaches for the medcomp, and I whimper.

“Please, don’t go away, I don’t want to go to sleep again…my head still hurts, please… why does my chest hurt, too? Please, Muhmis?”

“Sssaaa… listen, my sweet. We had to restart your heart. It had stopped while you were having some grand mal seizures. In the negotiation room. That’s why you’re sore. And yes, you do have to go to sleep for this. I’ll be nearby, and I’ll be here when you wake up. It won’t take long, I promise. Be good, now, Erin, that’s right. I’ll stay here until you’re asleep…” She begins stroking my cheeks, my jaw, smoothing my hair back from my forehead. My eyes suddenly grow too heavy to keep open, and I drift away, feeling her hands on me.

**  
“No, Sera, please not to touch. It’s still drying.” The tech moves my right hand back to the bed, and smiles down at me. “You’re fine, now. I’ll go fetch your--”

“No, here I am,” Gwen says, leaning down over me and kissing my forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Better, I think. My ear itches.”

“We had to open that area up a tiny bit, and the skin patch is still drying. It’ll be fine, soon. Have you remembered anything else, Erin?”

“No. Was I supposed to?”

Gwen sits down and runs a finger down the side of my face. “No, I was just wondering. Tell me about the conversation you and Emily had.”

“It’s here, in my transducer… do you want to access it?”

“I already have; I want your impressions, too. Tell.”

“Oh. Well, I was happy to see her. She’s a nice enough kid, for a Samothracian.” The tech next to me, packing away his kit, makes a soft snarling noise. I turn to him, surprised to hear such a noise coming from a servus, and then realize he’s human. One of the Space Force trainees sent out here recently. He blushes a bit, and hurriedly finishes packing.

“And?” Gwen prompts.

“I was sort of blissed out, as you will recall, Muhmis…” I say, looking back over to her. “It made me sort of sad that she was upset that I was somewhat, sort of, drugged, you know, and that it upset her.”

“Yes. Anything else? Did she touch you at any point during the conversation?”

“By my knee. My right one. Just a touch. It wasn’t that, was it, Muhmis? God…and I touched her hand, too.” I try to sit up, to look at the side of my knee, and the tech nudges me back against the bed. Gwen leans over me and looks closely at my leg, shaking her head no. 

“She was scanned, full-body, inside and out, wasn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, Uhmis the Archon. Before we let her out of the isolation unit. Several times, as a matter of fact. I can bring those records up for you, if you wish.” The tech makes a gesture, apparently indicating a holographic display.

“No, that’s fine. I can review them more quickly in my head. Thanks.” Gwen looks away, her eyes going unfocused for a brief moment, and then smiles back down at me. “Nothing we can find, anyway, darlin’. Anything else?”

“No. I wouldn’t think she’d do something like that, Muhmis…”

“That’s because you’re somewhat naïve, sweet. She’s a Samothracian, and they’re no less ruthless than we Draka. Maybe even more ruthless when it comes to you humans.” Her smile goes away, leaving her face set and grim. “Hmm… sounds like someone tried to spike your transducer.”

“The Samos?” I ask.

“Not us. I’ve checked all over, even with my political rivals. Nothing. No one would do something like that, anyway, when the issues of the Race were at hand. Not if they valued their lives at all. No, I think it was a Samothracian thing. We just need to figure out who, and how.”

Dr. Rhinehart walks into my line of sight, and smiles briefly at me. “Um, Archon, could we talk for a moment, in my office?”

“Certainly, but…”

“It’s all right. This area’s secured; she should be fine. But my office has very, very good security, the latest from Archona. And there’s something you need to see.”

“Right, then.” Gwen stands up smoothly, and pats my head gently. “Be right back. You, um, Technician Rogers, stay near her, in case she needs anything, hear?”

“Yes, Uhmis the Archon. I live to serve.” He bows, blushing again. He’s really a nice young kid, I think, and Alice’d think he was positively ducky. Maybe I should get Muhmis to bring him home… but between Alice and Shawonda, there probably wouldn’t be much left of him after the first week or so… I chuckle, and close my eyes.

PAIN! Unending, blinding, screaming, bloody pain. I try to yell, to make some noise, but nothing comes out, and I can’t even breathe. Or move. The itching’s there, but more briefly this time, and then the overwhelming PAIN that isn’t going to stop I’m going to have PAIN until I die oh god dying would be a blessed relief from this awful grinding burning PAIN please help me Mamaw Papaw Alice oh god Gwen please please make the PAIN stop…

Silence. Darkness. Then a blast of bright light, and voices, commanding, asking. I can’t move, can’t breathe. My chest hurts, my head… I can’t do anything. The light begins to fade and the pain moves back in, and then there’s nothing.

“Erin?” Gwen’s voice.

“Come on, now, missy, come on back to this world.” Dr. Rhinehart’s voice.

“That’s right, my pretty-girl. Erin, it’s all right. No, don’t try to get up, it’s all right.” Gwen’s voice again, and now I can see her. Yolande’s standing behind her, her eyes larger than usual, a grim look on her face that lightens as I wake up and open my eyes.

“Looks like she’s coming around. Let’s try to keep her, this time.” Rhinehart taps something on my medcomp and things clear up. I can breathe more easily now, but then I notice the translucent tube leading into my nose. The air’s cold but so sweet, so sweet. I breathe deeply, relishing the feeling rushing through me and the absence of the horrific pain.

“Muh-mis?” I manage to croak, and she takes my right hand off the bedcover and gently kisses it. The other Draka look away for a moment, I notice, as I blush.

“Yes, honey-sweet. It’s all right. You’re all right, now.”

“But… what happened to my transducer? What…”

“It’s off for now. You probably don’t remember much of what just happened, do you?” Rhinehart looks down at me, cool blue eyes like pools I could swim in. I blush again, and both he and Gwen chuckle. “Good responses, and good circulation, Archon.”

“Yes, she does have a charming blush. It’s full-body, too.” Gwen smoothes my hair back. It’s damp, I realize, and I shiver a bit.

“No, doctor, I don’t remember… but the itch was there, and then the pain was ever so much worse. God above, it was terrible.”

“Yes, it was. No wonder your heart seized again. Thought we were going to have a cerebral hemorrhage, there for a moment. But that’s all under control, now. The transducer’s staying off until we get you back to Earth/2, or unless we can keep you in a highly secure area, like the command center.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t remember what you did, do you?” Yolande sits down on the end of the bed and smiles at me. The shock of that almost makes me pass out again. Yolande Ingolfsson, hater of all damnyanks, of which I’m one, smiling at me? Gadzooks! I gasp, and wonder what she’s talking about.

“No, Uhmis Ingolfsson. What did I do?”

She grins, startlingly white in her tanned face. “Something I never would have expected from a damnyank. Guess I need to rethink my opinion of you.”

“Um… but Uhmis, what’d I do?”

“You were as brave as any Draka I’ve ever known. In the midst of all the agony you were in, you were telling us what signals you were receiving, and what it felt like; when Rhinehart here went to disconnect your transducer, you begged him to stay connected just a second or two longer. How you stood it, I don’t know. And I know pain. Believe me.”

I shiver. Yes, I believe you, with all my heart and soul, lady. Jesus. “But… I don’t remember…”

Gwen speaks up. “No, you don’t. I think your mind’s blanked out on it. You were almost killed by the spike this time, my pretty-girl, my brave little woman. But you lasted just long enough for Security to get a good trace on it.”

“I did? Where’s it from? What is it?”

“It’s a cyberspike, a tool we originally developed and that the Samothracians have almost perfected. It was trying to break through your transducer codes, even if it had to kill you to do so. The first one was more of an attempt to see if it worked at all, or possibly an attempt to communicate with you on a secret basis. The second one was designed to extract whatever information it could, and then kill you.”

“God.”

“More like the devil, if you want to talk about mythology. But it’s Samothracian, all right.” Gwen snarls, low and guttural. The other Draka do, too, and for a moment I have the mental image of being surrounded by a pack of hungry, pissed-off wolves in the dead of winter. Alone in the woods. I shudder, and Gwen makes a slight face, her own reddening somewhat. “Ah, my dear, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you so. Ssshh… it’s all right, now, Erin. You’re safe.”

“Just, um, watch those growly noises, unless you want me hiding under the bed,” I try to joke, but my voice is shaky. I try to grin, too, but it comes out lopsided.

“Never… you’re safe, my girl. My sweet saafn. My brave saafn. You’ve made me very proud, indeed.” She kisses me firmly on the lips, her tongue flickering in for a second to warm me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.

“Who… ahem… sent it?” I say, after a moment regaining my wits.

The Draka laugh. Gwen finally recovers enough to say, “Your favorite Samo.”

“Emily? No way, not her, please…”

“No, no… I was being sarcastic. Actually, it was her lovely mother. But we had a little surprise for her.” Gwen chuckles deeply again. “When we traced the spike, and found out who sent it, we rerouted it back to her, ramped up about two hundred percent. And guess what?”

“What?”

“Guess who’s ‘not feeling well’ and won’t be attending the rest of the negotiation sessions?”

“Aha! How sweet of you!” The words sound innocuous coming out of my mouth, but Rhinehart’s eyes widen in surprise. He reaches for the medcomp, and Gwen holds his hand back. She’s grinning, a bare-toothed snarl like the one I’m wearing. Yolande’s watching me, closely, with a small smile on her face. Of understanding. She knows hatred when she sees it.

“No, don’t medicate her anymore than’s necessary, Harold. Let her feel her anger. It’s fine.” Gwen’s voice is calm, but there’s iron in it.

“I’ve just never seen a human look like… well, like that. It was surprising.”

Yolande speaks up. “You’re a youngster, Rhinehart. These are the humans we subdued to create the empire of the Race. They’re not to be taken lightly. Ever.”

“I can certainly see that now.” He sits back down, watching my face intently.

I wipe sweat off my forehead. “I wish I could’ve seen it. Maybe smoke came out of her ears or something. That bitch…”

“Yes, that would be entertaining. Perhaps one day, that’s what we’ll see. But it was your sacrifice, your courage, that made the retaliation possible. I don’t think any more spikes will be coming through. I’ve also talked with General Smythe, and he was actually quite surprised that this had happened. He had no idea she was working on the spike program; apparently she’s in quite a bit of hot water.”

“May she boil.” I close my eyes for a moment, trying to calm the pulse pounding in my ears. I feel Gwen’s hands stroke my face, and relax into her touch. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s quite all right, darlin’…” The other Draka chuckle, and I feel Yolande squeeze my right foot, gently.

“How can we manage, though, Muhmis? Will all the humans have to go without their transducers?”

“No. We’re already working on that issue. An updated security code will be sent ‘round, and that should guard against any more of these problems. The Samothracians want the negotiations too much to play the spike game anymore.”

“I’d like to play it with them for a time or two. I guess they decided to try it out on some of us expendable, traitorous humans, and then maybe work their way up from there?” I look up at her, and at the other Draka around me. “They may hate you, as Draka, as what they consider unnatural critters, but they despise us humans. We chose to serve you. Like we had a lot of choice. Sorry, but that’s the truth. It was either that or be a molecular smear against memet. But if they could, they’d spike every man, woman and child that had a transducer implant. I can’t tolerate that.”

“No, we can’t. As Archon, I apologize to you, saafn, for not protecting you as well as I should’ve. That’s being taken care of. A little cyber-terrorism, ah, how do you say, back at them, should discourage any more initiatives down that particular road.” Gwen’s voice is firm and formal, and I see the raised eyebrows on the two other Draka. What she’s just done, I realize, is damn rare. It means something.

“Thank you, Archon. I mean it. Thanks. It’s… I want to find a way to protect us, to work on this to fix it. Somehow. They’re intent on wiping us out, some way or another. I’ve worked too hard and dreamed too much to see it thrown away like this. Let me help. We humans are pretty good at this computer stuff, and our technology with yours might be a winning combination. How about accepting my enlistment as your first cyberjanissary?”

Gwen chuckles and kisses my hand. “No, I want to keep you by my side, wench. You’re too valuable to me. But… that’s a damn interesting idea. See what I meant, Yolande, when I was talking about their creativity potential? That’s an intriguing proposition, indeed.”

“It certainly is.” We all look down to the end of my bed. Archon Alexis Renston’s standing there, a smile playing across his handsome, angular face.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

I open my eyes and look around blearily. This isn’t the cabin we were in, I think; you can see the plastcrete walls of the inner dome here… at the guest quarters, the rooms were paneled in bird’s eye maple. Damn expensive, but the Draka have never been ones to balk at the price of something. 

I’m getting tired of waking up in a new place every time I go to sleep, too, I think silently to myself. I hear soft voices coming from the other section of the room, and, with my eyes shut and breathing carefully slow, I listen.

“Damn you, Alexis, I don’t intend to be removed from the negotiations team, by you or anyone. I’ve worked too fucking hard to get it to the point it’s at now!” Gwen’s voice is soft but vicious, and despite my attempt at control, I find myself shivering. They’re speaking Tawlk, rapidly and slurring some of the words in an unfamiliar way…oh, yeah, the Command Tawlk. That’s what they’re using. I’ve learned some of it from Gwen, just by osmosis, and my transducer--I check to see that it’s on, surprise, surprise--must be extrapolating and filling in the words I don’t know.

Alexis growls, then sighs. “Listen, Gwen, I’m not here--hear that? I’m not here to remove you from the team. I’m here for effect. For the effect my presence will have on the Samos--they’ll spend valuable time and resources trying to figure out why.” Sarcastically: “They’ll assume, the fools, that I’m here to replace you on the team, since you’re so, well, emotionally broken up over your poor little serf girl.”

“I can handle that. I’ve handled worse situations, and you know it. The Archonal Council knows it.”

“Gwen! Listen! Hell’s bells, woman…” Alexis walks across the deck, stamping his feet loud enough for me to hear each footfall. “I told you. No replacement. Psychological warfare is one of my specialties. I learned it from you, Grandmother.”

“Yes, you did.” Gwen’s growl is slowly subsiding.

“Listen, please. And you don’t catch me saying that very often. This is important, Gwen. The negotiations are--you know that very well. They’ve targeted your wench as a ploy to distract you, as if it could. They’ve made a mistake there, not knowing Draka psychology.” He pauses, then goes on:

“If we can have some sort of peace with those idiot humans, that means we can invest more resources into conquering the universes we control, and exploring ones we don’t. Plus, there’s always the chance we might stumble on something that’s a true challenge to the Race, and we need to prepare for that. I’m here to observe, and give advice--not to take over.”

“I wish I could trust you more on that, Alexis, I really do. But you’re quite the politician these days.” Gwen’s voice is bitter, now, and I can hear, or think I hear, a tinge of sadness in it. Regret, maybe, I think, maybe she’s sad they don’t have a very good grandmother-grandson relationship.

There’s a sudden silence, and then I can sense as well as hear a flurry of lightning-fast movement. Twin snarls of rage twine together, making my hair stand up. It really does, actually; I feel my hair bushing out in a primordial reaction to the sounds from the other section of the room. Oh, good god, they’re fighting, what do I do? I sure can’t intervene… maybe I can call someone? But who? Schalk de Lange is back on Earth/2, Tamarindus Rohm’s on PrimeLine Mars… Yolande. I’ll call her. God help me.

Uhmis Yolande Ingolfsson?

Yes? Erin?

Yes, Uhmis Ingolfsson. Um, I’m not sure what’s happening… there’s a crash out in the other compartment, and a hiss of pain… but I think you may want to calm two very angry Archons down before they rip a hole in the dome and decompress us all by accident. Please, Uhmis Ingolfsson, I don’t know what else to do!

I’ll be right there. If you value your skin, don’t go anywhere near them. Understand?

Yes, Uhmis Ingolfsson, I do. Believe me, I’m not getting out of this bed unless it’s to hide under it. I sign off, sighing and shivering at the same time. Silence, with slight whispers of movement, reigns in the other section.

“Uuhnnhh! Pax. Pax. Damn it, Gwen… ah.”

I hear Gwen yowl in victory, a savage, wolf-like sound. Then she says, in a voice husky with blood-lust: “Fine, then. Want to try some more?”

“No. Damn…” Alexis sounds rather woozy, I think. I wonder what happened.

“It’ll knit.”

“I hope so.” 

Jeezie petes, what’d they do? I don’t think I really want to know… I hear the door chime softly, and both the Draka curse vehemently, softly. “Come,” says Gwen, after a long moment.

The door shushes open, and Yolande steps through. “Hmm. Looks pretty messy in here… look at his arm! Gods above, you two… you’re doing more damage to each other than the Samothracians are…”

“Yes, well… we just had a little… tiff. It’s over now.” Gwen sounds cool, calm and collected, I think, after breaking the Prime Archon’s arm. Jeeze…

“Um, well…do we need medical attention?” Yolande sounds doubtful.

“No. The bleeding’s stopped, and the arm’ll heal. You know that. Get a serf crew in here to clean things up, and it’ll be fine. I’ll just say it was an accident or something. We don’t need everyone on Titan knowing about this, do we? It was a training accident. No one has to know.” Alexis sounds stronger, now, not as queasy as before. His system must be adapting, I think, in the amazingly fast way Draka manage..

“No, that wouldn’t be wise. But I want to be very sure, grandson, that we understand where the two of us are…” Gwen’s voice goes quieter, more deadly sounding, like before. My stomach feels like a bucket of ice just got dumped into it.

A deep sigh. “Gwendolyn Ingolfsson, Citizen, my honored grandmother, Planetary Archon… I pledge to you, on my honor as a Citizen of the Race… no games here. I’m here to observe and advise. You’re in charge of the negotiations. And I’ve said this all in the presence of a Citizen witness, to boot.”

“And after?”

Aw, man, Gwen, don’t push it… the man just promised you no games, and that’s what he apparently lives for, that and power. If you push him into a corner, he’ll come roaring back out at you, damn it… I sit up in bed, pulling the blankets tight to me.

“After…” He pauses. “I’m not about to step down, if that’s what you mean. You’ll have to death challenge me for that, woman.”

“No, I don’t want your Archonate. I have my own. I meant after the negotiations, any more games from you?”

There’s a long silence. I wrap the blankets tighter around me, and wish I could feel warm again. The pheromonal blasts from the Draka are about to fry mah po’ lil brain, I think. I wish they’d quit it and calm down.

Alexis clears his throat and says something, very quietly. I don’t catch what he says, but Yolande laughs. “That’s a Draka for you, Gwen.”

“If you ever try something like what you just did, grandson, I’ll not only yank your gods-damned arm off, I’ll rip something else off, so your pretty-buck will cry for months…”

“Gwen…” Yolande chides, gently.

“I mean it. I haven’t lived half a millennium to be challenged like that, my youngling.”

“I know. It was a bit foolish, come to think of it.” Alexis sounds somewhat bothered, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

Gwen chuckles. “Think twice before you do it again.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I will. Think twice, that is.” Alexis does sound amused now. I hear furniture being picked up, and various other sounds of a quick clean-up. My god, Draka actually know how to pick things up, I think irreverently. How astonishing.

“Why’d you stop by, Yolande? Just for a visit, or…”

“Well, Gwen, you seem to have forgotten your terrified little wench in the other compartment. She heard your tiff and called me.”

“Aha!” Gwen walks in, and my mouth drops open. Her face is spattered with blood, already drying, and her uniform’s in tatters. A long pink seam down the side of her neck is still oozing a drop or two of bright red blood, and there’s a bruise on her forehead. “My poor little wench…”

“Good god, Gwen--ah, I mean, Muhmis…”

“It’s all right. I’ll be fine. Just a bit mussed.” She sits down on the side of the bed, but I catch a wince as she does so. I reach out a hand to her, touching her side, and she covers it with one of her own hands. “It’ll all mend, soon enough. Nothing to write home about.”

“I didn’t know what else to do, Muhmis.” Alexis and Yolande stand in the hatchway, and I’m horrified to see that the Prime Archon’s right arm is, well, shredded. Bone fragments and blood are spattered along one long, tanned arm; it has an odd, ugly bulge to it near the elbow, and I wince. He’s bloodier than Gwen is, that’s for sure, I think. I wonder if that’s how they keep score. Let’s see, Citizen, you lost three pints, and this Citizen over here…oops, watch out for that thumb there… you lost five pints. Citizen one wins! I shake my head, looking back and forth between the two of them and Yolande.

“It’s all right. Sometimes these things happen. I bet our pheromones weren’t making you very happy, either, were they, my pretty-girl?”

“Hell, no!” I blush. “Muhmis.”

“Lively one, she is. I wish you’d lend her to me, just once…” Alexis laughs. I shudder a bit, still sort of horrified at the thought. Gwen strokes my hair, and smiles. 

“No, this one’s my own. I don’t lend her out.”

“Ah, well, the worst you could say is no, so I thought I’d ask. Listen, I’m going to go get cleaned up. I think we’re pretty clear on who’s doing what, aren’t we?”

“Yes, indeed.” Gwen smiles, a toothy, white wolf-grin. Her hand tightens on mine, fractionally, and I fight back the urge to gasp as it feels like a hydraulic press is crunching my fingers.

“Um, Muhmis…” I whisper.

“Oh, sorry.” She leans over and kisses me, and the sweet smell of blood on her reminds me of when she killed the panter, the mountain lion, up in the hills near where my grandparents lived. I kiss her back, firmly, glad to still have her around.

“Yes, I think cleaning up would be a lovely idea. I’ll get a cleaning crew in here, immediately. Why don’t you go scrub your Muhmis’ back, wench. I think you’d both enjoy that…” Yolande smiles at me, and winks. I blush, but wink back.

“Conspiring to get me laid, are you two?” Gwen laughs, and picks me up in her arms, blankets and all. “A shower does sound good. And a back scrub. And perhaps a front scrub…” She kisses me again, and I’m molten with desire for her. I moan, softly, as she carries me into the head, and the shower, and heaven.

**  
“What?”

Gwen laughs, indulgently, and ruffles my hair. “General Smythe wants to have a few words with you, that’s all. Come on, now. I’ll be with you; you’ll be safe, Erin.”

“Words with me? But why?” I stand up from the side of the bed, and pull my tunic over my head slowly. “I figure the last thing he wants is to talk to one of us traitorous human types…”

“No, not true. He does indeed want to talk with you, and I agreed that he could. On Draka territory, under Draka security. You’re safe…” Gwen kisses me lightly on the lips and lets one hand drift down my side. I shiver under her touch, and grin.

“Safe, hmm?”

“Yes. Safe. I promise this time, you are.” Gwen’s still smiling but her voice has gone grim and formal. I nod, and pull on my low, hand-tooled leather boots. I give myself a once-over in the full-length mirror in the room, the compartment, and smile nervously at Muhmis. She smiles back, gently, and pecks me on the top of the head. “Come on, my saafn dear. Let’s go. I’m curious myself as to what he has to say.”

“Okay, Muhmis.” We leave the now-spotless guest quarters on the command level of the dome, where they’ve moved us after the two spiking incidents. Servus and humans along the corridors make deep bows as we pass by, acknowledging Gwen’s status. I catch a thumbs-up or two from various humans, as well. I guess my status hasn’t been hurt, either, and not just because I’m Gwen’s Prime Councilor. The spiking incident has done a lot to bind the humans here together in a way they weren’t before, I think, as we walk toward a guarded meeting room.

A ghouloon and a Draka stand by the hatchway, both wearing full body armor and carrying weapons, apparently, from the odd bulges in their shifting, black, memet suits. The Draka nods at Muhmis and the ghouloon snaps to attention, a huge, hairy paw slapping its chest in salute. Gwen bobs her head at both, and then we’re inside. Not soon enough for me, I wince, walking hurriedly past the hulking form of the transgene. Kawtuh aren’t quite as scary, I guess, but these ghouloons are damn… big.

Smythe and his retinue are waiting, standing by a table. The Samothracian guards look tense, and they’re wearing some sort of armor, as well. Smythe doesn’t seem to be, but that doesn’t mean much, I realize, with all this fancy high tech stuff we’ve all got now. If I were him, I’d be wearing the best on the market and packing something, too. I eye him warily as we approach. He smiles, rather tightly, and puts out his hand? I’m stunned, for a moment. Gwen nudges me, a barely-felt touch in the small of my back, and I step forward. My hand goes out to meet his, and is enveloped in a iron-hard grip.

“Miss Kane d’Ingolfsson? Ian Smythe. I want to personally extend my sincere apologies for the, ah, incident. Incidents. I also want to assure you steps have been taken to ensure that no more, hm, problems like the ones you dealt with will occur again during these or any other negotiation settings.”

I squeeze back as hard as I can, apparently surprising the hell out of him with my strength. But then again, I’ve been working out quite a bit, and I guess it pays off. I release his hand, and smile, showing my teeth. “Thank you, General. I appreciate the gesture.”

“Why don’t we sit down? Some refreshments, perhaps?” Gwendolyn moves in, her hand on my shoulder. I feel its familiar warmth and it comforts me. That, the idea that her touch comforts me, makes some echoes in my head that I know I’ll have to think about later; for now, I concentrate on the present. She guides me to the table nearby, and Smythe and his two bodyguards follow. We sit, looking quite civilized, I think, for all that these two groups of people have been trying to annihilate each other for centuries.

A servus brings over a coffee service and some pastries; Gwen gestures that she should serve the Samothracians first, and the woman bows, obeying. She must be on dociline, I think, since she’s so calm in the presence of the hereditary hunters of her race. I watch her face as she serves coffee to the two men and one woman Samothracian, and it’s a study of serenity. I wish I felt that way, I say silently to myself, but I sure as hell don’t want any more dociline. Although they could have given me some and I just don’t know it… no, I’d know it. It always makes me feel sort of stoned, and there’s not a hint of that feeling now.

The Samos decline the pastries, and I notice the coffee pretty much goes untasted. What, they think we’re going to poison them here or something? Like, duh, I think. I sip my coffee and enjoy the strong taste and aroma of Kenya Blue, one of Gwen’s favorite flavors. Gwen puts her china cup down into the saucer precisely, and looks directly at Smythe.

He clears his throat, and leans forward, looking at the two of us. The servus disappears out the hatchway, and he waits for the door to cycle shut. “I wanted to have this meeting with the two of you for a reason. The negotiations are very important to us, as I am sure they are to you, as well. I wanted to make a personal apology to the young lady here, and to ask for her help.”

“My help?” I blurt out, and then snap my mouth shut, blushing.

“That’s certainly a surprising thing to hear you say, General Smythe,” Gwen purrs smoothly. Her foot caresses my leg under the table, and I try to school my features to a less-shocked look. “How could my saafn help you?”

“It’s obvious she’s an important member of your… staff. She has a great deal of status among the other… humans. That’s something that could be very helpful for one of our initiatives, Archon Ingolfsson.” He smiles. “The emigration policy.”

“How could I help you with that, sir?” I ask, respectfully. I lean back in the chair, watching his face but noticing the two other Samos, too. They seem like they’re in pain, I think; must be awful, watching their high and mighty leader conversing with one of the Fallen.

“By using your position of respect among the humans on your Earth to give a positive boost to the policy implementation.”

“We haven’t quite reached a decision on the emigration policy per se, General.” Muhmis sips from her coffee again. “Perhaps you’re being a bit hasty here.”

“I think we’re close enough to an agreement, Archon, that I’m not being too hasty to see whether or not the humans you rule would be interested in the initiative. I hope you don’t think I’m jumping the gun, as it were. I know Miss Kane d’Ingolfsson here, as your assistant, knows about the policy already.”

“Please, my formal name isn’t ‘Miss Kane d’Ingolfsson’, sir. It’s Sera d’Ingolfsson. Yes, I know about the policy, but I also agree with Muhmis the Archon that a formal agreement hasn’t been reached yet concerning emigration. I’m not sure how much help I can be at this point in the game,” I conclude. “Sir.”

The two Samos on either side of the General shift in their chairs, and Gwen grins whitely, enjoying their discomfort. I have to remember, I think, that she’s designed to actively enjoy conflict; this is peaches and cream to her. It’s like going to the dentist for me. The General leans back in his chair, his smile growing smaller.

“Please, excuse my protocol mistake. I was misinformed.” He glances to his left, and the Samothracian Major, a young man with black hair and a tiny moustache, looks studiously at the deck. “But can we not simply talk about this proposed policy, and get some feedback from you, Sera d’Ingolfsson?”

I look at Gwen, and she nods, slightly. I wish my transducer was on, I grumble to myself. It would make this a lot more fun and less tricky. “Yes, sir, I can talk about that.”

The older woman, a Samothracian Shock Troop Colonel, winces after catching me looking over to Gwen. She tries to hide it, but I know both Muhmis and I have caught the look. The odd, closed-in curve of Gwen’s smile tells me as much.

“Good, good. So, Miss, ah… Sera d’Ingolfsson, how do you think the proposed emigration will go over?” General Smythe sounds relieved and he leans forward again, watching my face, my eyes.

“Our Overlords have control over who can and can’t emigrate, is that correct? Final say?”

“Yes.” He looks a tad peeved about that. “As the proposed policy is stated right now.”

“Given that, then may I make some conjectures, Muhmis the Archon?”

“Of course, Prime Councilor.” Muhmis swivels in her chair to face me, and smiles. “By all means. I know you’ve been doing some research on that for me already.”

I take a deep breath. “Yes, Muhmis the Archon. Thank you. Well, sir, I can say that there will be a fairly large proportion of the population on Earth/2 that would be interested, but also a large group that would not be interested at all.”

The Colonel snorts. Lady, you didn’t get that rank by being impolite, I think to myself. Watch it. The General has raised his eyebrows, and waits for me to go on. The abashed Major on the other side of his chair is continuing to examine the deck. He must be in the doghouse big time, I chuckle mentally. Tough.

I go on: “The proportion that would be interested would be allowed, most probably, to leave by the Archon and her fellow Overlords.”

“Really?” Smythe sounds somewhat surprised.

Gwen nods. “We have quite a population on Earth/2 and can spare the ones that want to go, quite easily, if you people are willing to bear the energy costs for shipping them.”

“Which are high, but we’d bear that. In terms of numbers, how many are your studies showing are in favor of emigrating?”

“Between four hundred thousand to one million.” I think for a moment. “It depends on whether or not you allow religious freedoms; there are quite a few folks who would migrate if that were the case.”

“Of course we allow…” The Major clamps his mouth shut, and turns red as both the Colonel and the General stare at him.

“We are a society that allows personal religious freedom, Sera d’Ingolfsson. I’m sure you’re aware of that.” The General smiles, then pauses for a moment as the Colonel hands him a small pad. He reads what’s on the display, and nods. The Colonel bobs her head at the Major, rather fiercely, and he stands, straightening his uniform.

“Please excuse me. I have some other duties to attend to, ah, Archon, Miss… um, Sera, and sirs.” He salutes Smythe and stalks from the room, shoulders braced.

“He’s a bit on the young and imperious side, and I thought maybe things would be more easily discussed by the four of us,” Smythe says. He sips from his now-cooling coffee, and Gwen smiles.

“Would you like some hot coffee, General?”

“No,” he replies, blue eyes flashing. “This is fine. And we don’t want to keep you from your duties overlong.”

“Fine,” Muhmis murmurs. Her long fingers form a steeple. “What else would you like to discuss?”

“How solid are the numbers your assistant here came up with?”

“Quite.”

“No more than a million, of the several billion on the planet? That seems hard to…”

“Believe? Oh, please do. We’ve done some extensive research on it. Most of the billions of people are living better than their dreams right now, with employment, health care, education and peace. They’re perfectly happy, for the most part, to continue on the way they are right now. The minority of people who want to leave are disaffected and feel somewhat disempowered. The arrival of the Draka meant that they lost power, which of course they don’t enjoy losing. They’re the ones who would like to migrate your way.” I smile at the two Samos, who are trying very hard not to look like they just had to suck on a lemon.

“Overpopulation, though, must be creating some powerful economic forces for you to contend with, Archon,” the Colonel says, pointedly ignoring me.

“Not really. We’ve already begun population control measures, and the overall population is dropping the way we want it to. Soon, a century or so, and we’ll have things stabilized.” Gwen finishes her coffee. “The economy of Earth/2, after going through some adjustments, has become quite robust and seems to be working well, thanks in part to the excellent work of my staff. And that work is coordinated very ably by Prime Councilor Sera d’Ingolfsson here.”

I blush a little. “We’ve all worked very hard, Muhmis, to attain the goals you set for us. And the results have been very impressive, indeed. I’m proud of the work we’ve done. That goes double for the work we’ve done on researching the emigration numbers. They’re pretty solid, sirs.”

“Yes, well… thank you. It certainly gives us some numbers to play with. I appreciate your candor and your hard work, Sera d’Ingolfsson. Certainly.” Smythe looks at his companion, who nods just a bit. “And I really do think we must be getting back to our section of the negotiation area. I really do appreciate your meeting with us like this, Archon.”

“We’re willing to do that, if it will materially help the negotiation process, General.” Gwen stands, and I stand up next to her. The Colonel almost bolts for the door, but Smythe remains behind for a moment. The lady Colonel begins to turn back, to wait near him, and he waves her on out the door.

“I did have one thing I wanted to say in private, Colonel. I’ll be right with you.” He watches the hatch close, and turns back to the two of us. “I wanted to assure you that I had no knowledge of the spiking project, nor would I have approved the use of it in these negotiation settings. Please rest assured that the person, or persons, involved in the project have been… disciplined. I won’t tolerate that kind of double dealing under my command. Nor will the Senate of Samothrace; there was quite a bit of concern that the incidents could have disrupted the negotiation process. We don’t want that to happen, at all.”

“Thank you for your openness, Ian. We certainly appreciate that.” Gwen smiles. “We, too, don’t wish to see the negotiations process derailed by any sort of fanaticism… that would be unfortunate. The wars have gone on long enough. We’ve got to forge a peace now, to ensure that both groups can truly enjoy the prospects opening up to us with use of the molehole technology.”

“Yes, my feelings are very similar, indeed. And we’ve both lost family to the fighting, Gwen. You and I have both lost a son, in the last skirmish…” He looks out the porthole, over Gwen’s shoulder. “We have all lost a tremendous amount, and I’m tired of the drain on our resources. But that doesn’t mean there’s a universal peace movement afoot in the Senate, either. Nor do I believe for one instant that the Draka aren’t as aggressive as history’s shown them to be…” A grim smile moves across his lips.

“No, we’re very aggressive. We just hope to pour more of that into exploration and other projects than into a constant border war with you. I think that’s the focus of our negotiation efforts.”

“And I am sorry, Miss… Sera, that you had to bear the brunt of that dirty little border war there for a few days. Rest assured, the parties involved have been removed from their positions of… responsibility.”

“Just don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, General,” I say.

“Hmm?”

“Emily. Just because her mother’s a loony, don’t think she is. She seemed like a very mature young woman, and a bright one. I’d enjoy working with her.”

An expression of distaste crosses his features before he can completely hide it, and Gwen laughs. “She’s not trying to seduce your youngster, Smythe. She wasn’t, in the first place. I think I can vouch for that. Erin’s being sincere about wanting to work, not sleep, with Emily and other young Samothracians like her. I think that might be a good thing to consider.”

“Hmm. Yes. Well.” He shifts from foot to foot for a moment, and then nods. “Yes, I’m guilty of assuming, and I shouldn’t have. Emily’s mother has a bit of a complex when it comes to her daughter’s, well, moral protection. We as a society don’t approve of homosexual or bisexual persons, and that just comes out a bit more violently in her. I will remember that Sera d’Ingolfsson is talking about work, not anything else, when it comes to Emily.”

“Thank you.” I blush a bit, both out of anger at his homophobia and out of embarrassment. I’ve never made a pass at a straight woman, I think, and I’m too old to start doing that now. And Emily’s as straight as they come, old boy.

“I’m glad we had this little meeting, Ian. Thank you for suggesting it.” Gwen puts her arm around my shoulders; I lean into her embrace inconspicuously.

“I’m glad, too, Gwendolyn. Thank you for arranging it and discussing things with me. You, too, Sera d’Ingolfsson. I do appreciate it.” The man puts his hand out again, and this time Gwen takes it. She smiles as she shakes his hand, and I see by the way their eyes are narrowing slightly that they must be having a good old fashioned squeezing contest.

I reach over and enclose their hands, Draka and Samothracian alike, with both my own human hands. “Peace?”


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Their short, wolf-like barks of laughter reach me as I walk toward the pool; Alexandra and Ariadne, I think. Undercutting their laughter is a high-pitched whine of frustration: Alois. His voice cuts through the older Draka’s hilarity.

“I can do it, just give me another chance, I can, watch me now! I’ll show you!” A giant splash, and deeper laughter from the two girls.

“Hey, y’all, what’s going on?” I call out as my feet find the cool inlaid tile surrounding the poolside. Not exactly proper protocol, but when you’ve diapered, fed and burped the people you’re talking with, somehow the friendlier approach seems more natural to me.

“Hiyo, Tantie-ma Erin,” answers Alexandra, her long, muscled form stretched out on the massage table, receiving an expert pummeling from Andri. He looks up, flicks his hair out of his eyes, and grins hello, then returns to his work.

“Hi, Erin,” Ariadne says, perched on a floating ball in the pool. Her long red hair hangs loose, covering her shoulders. She looks like one of those Venus paintings from Venice or something, I think to myself, and smile. She’s certainly all grown up now, at least physically, no doubt about it.

Alois surfaces, face red, and gasps in some air. He follows the direction of Ariadne’s look, and his face breaks into a grin. “Hey, Tantie-ma!” He turns back to his sisters, his face growing more serious. “See, I can too stay under that long. You saw me!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. It still doesn’t come close to my twelve minutes or Alexa’s fifteen. Wimp!” Ariadne kicks some water into her brother’s face, and dodges his reflexive splashes in return.

“It’s not fair! My lungs are smaller. I am staying under for proportionately…”

Alexandra’s laugh cuts him off. “Try explaining that to your instructor, or a hungry ghouloon pack, kiddo. Actually, the ghouloons might be nicer about it.” She sits up, and grins whitely at me. “But you’re still way below what you should be, Alois. You don’t practice enough.”

“I do too! You’re just not here to see me!”

“Well, I am, and I still say you don’t practice enough, either. You’re always drifting around, your mind stuck in some book on your transducer, and you don’t put enough of yourself into your duties. Which aren’t as numerous as mine, I might remind you!” Ariadne flounces off the ball, her muscles moving like oiled steel, and leaps onto the tile deck surrounding the fresh-water pool with a tiger’s grace.

“That’s not… Tantie-ma, they’re ganging up on me, it’s not fair! I do too practice, every day!” His big blue eyes are narrowing, and I think I see the glint of tears in them. 

For cripes’ sake, child, don’t cry in front of them, they’ll never let you live it down, I think silently, watching his face closely. Come on, Alois, buck up, kiddo… I smile encouragingly at him as he climbs out of the pool, the water beading on his deeply tanned skin. The trees surrounding us make a quiet susurration in the background, and I can hear birds singing. The scene would be so peaceful, I think, if only it didn’t feel like a volcano was fixin’ to let loose…

“Listen, I do too practice! You want the transducer downloads, or what?” He stands glaring at his older sisters, hands on hips. It’s hard for someone to look really pissed off when they’re naked, I muse, but he’s doing a great job of it. I think that Draka temper of his is about to…

“You will refrain from using that tone of voice with me or your sister, Alois.” Alexandra’s diction is very clear and precise, a sure sign she’s getting really angry. “Apologize.”

“No! No! I don’t have to! You’re being unfair to me, and it’s all ‘cause you think you’re so high and mighty coming back from school. I won’t!” He stamps his foot to emphasize the last word, and as his foot meets the tile, Alexandra, moving so swiftly she’s a blur, leaps to stand in front of him.

Her hands grasp his slender arms above the elbow, and she lifts him easily, so he’s looking her eye to eye. “Yes, you will apologize, you young, insolent pup, or you’ll regret it. I mean it, apologize.”

“Hey, now, everybody…” I begin. Three sets of Draka eyes turn to me, and I stop, my mouth hanging open. What had been a gathering of three youngsters has turned into a pack of homo drakensis, and their danders, collectively, are up. I snap my mouth shut and look down at my feet. Shut up, girl, before Alexandra’s holding you like that. Man, where’s Gwen when you need her?

There’s a moment, a long one, of silence. A sniffle breaks it, and then a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Remember that I’m of age, young man. You’re not. That means you have to give me the respect I deserve. I’m not fooling around with you about that, or about the fact that you’re not practicing enough. I know you’re little, and you have time to play, but you also have to get ready to be a grown-up. I expect to see you practicing more, especially unarmed combat and swimming, while I’m here on leave. Is that clear, Alois?”

“Yes, Alexa. Let me down, please.” He sounds cowed but still angry, I think. Alexandra slowly lets him down, and when his feet touch the tiles, he jerks away from her. “You’re a big mean ghouloon looking speck! So there!” His foot lashes out, kicking her sharply in the shin, and he dashes away from her grasp, ducking under the hedge.

“Damn it, that hurt, you little weasel!” Alexandra starts to sprint after him, and I get enough nerve up to clear my throat. She sighs and turns back to face me, frowning. “What, Tantie-ma?”

“How about you let me go after him this time?”

“You?” She laughs, the frown disappearing from her beautiful face. Her mother’s face, I realize with a visceral shock; it’s getting stronger and stronger every day, and it’s only now that I notice? But then again, she is the clone of her mother, so it’s only natural, I guess. The jolt inside me is amazing, though. “Why you, Erin?”

“Because if you chase him down, it’s just going to be more of the same battle of the wills. He knows you’re right, he just hates to admit it. Like any Draka, he loathes having to admit he’s wrong. He’d rather take a beating from you right now that admit to throwing a temper tantrum. And he is only six, Alexa. Cut him some slack, please.”

She sits on the massage bench, next to her sister, who’s now getting her massage from a very quiet, tense Andri. Stroking Ariadne’s hair, Alexandra’s still for a moment, thinking. Then her eyes meet mine. “Fine. But I’m serious, Erin. He needs to start getting ready for real life. Being lost in his books may get him good grades academically but it won’t help him on the practice fields. He’ll get the snot beaten out of him. I’ve seen it happen, and so has Ariadne.”

“I know. I’ve seen some pictures, myself. Not what I’d do for education, myself…” I grin. “But he’s so young, he’s just trying so hard to be like you two, and when he can’t, physically, it just eats him up.”

“He’ll be off to Archona, and school, in another year and a half, Tantie-ma. That’s not a lot of time to get ready. It’s a proving ground, a constant testing of your abilities, your will power. For a Draka, it’s probably one of the most important times of our lives. And he’s nowhere near ready.”

“He will be, when the time comes. He’s an Ingolfsson.” The two girls smile at me, and I return it. “Let me go talk with him, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I want to swim for awhile anyway. He has to apologize for kicking me, though. That has to be part of it, Erin. He can’t do that, to family or anyone else, for that matter. Not anymore.” Alexa stands, then smoothly dives into the water, leaving barely a ripple to show where she went in.

Ariadne snickers softly. “I taught him that move, too. It still works! But seriously, talk with him, Tantie-ma. You can get through where maybe neither of us or Mama can.”

“Does your Mama know about this fuss already?”

“No. Not yet. But if he doesn’t apologize, she will. Then the shit’ll hit the fan,” Ariadne murmurs, turning over onto her back for Andri. I chuckle at her adoption of a purely Yankee bit of slang--her grandmother Yolande would be scandalized, come to think of it. The chuckle turns into a quiet laugh at that thought, and she looks up at me quizzically.

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later. I’ll go hunt down King of the Jungle and talk some sense into him. I think it’s just growing pains, that’s all. Thanks, though.” I lean down and give her a quick peck on the forehead, and she smiles up at me, blue-green eyes sparkling.

“Go get ‘im, Miss Fix-It!”

I walk through the opening in the hedge and stop to think for a moment. If I was Alois, and I was upset, where would I go? The creek, down by the outer barns. That’s where I’d go… I start walking there, the smell of grass and herbs coming to meet me on the summer breeze. Soon the sound of running water is nearby, and the whinnies of horses in the distance. I start scanning the trees, looking for a small Draka.

“Here I am. I could have pounced on you already and killed you, you know. You sounded like an elephant coming this way, Tantie-ma!” His cheery voice is above me, and I jump a little in startlement.

“God, you scared me. Why can’t you whistle or something, Alois? Jeezie petes…”

“It was fun watching and listening to you. And I like it up here. Did Alexa send you to scold me some more?” He’s poised, predatory, on a limb about ten feet above my head, grinning wickedly.

“No, honey. I came to talk with you, just between the two of us. That’s all.” I sit down, resting against the rough bark of the pine tree, and look up into the shade, where he perches like a leopard. “Care to join me, oh great hunter?”

“Well, okay. Since you acknowledge my hunting prowess, I guess I can grace you with my presence.” He grins and drops from the tree with a hunting cat’s grace, landing silently at my feet. He curls up there, looking at me from under his white-blonde bang of hair.

“I’m not here to preach, okay?”

A roll of bright blue eyes greets this announcement. “Mhh-hmm. So go ahead and preach. I already know I have to apologize to Alexandra, even though she was being mean, too. But I will. I guess.”

I rest my head against the tree, closing my eyes. “I’m really, really not here to preach. I want to talk things out with you. I’m actually on your side, Alois.”

I hear a small sigh. “I know. You always are. I love you for that. As well as for other things. Is it strange for a Draka to love a human, Tantie-ma?”

“Rare, but not strange.”

“Does Mama love you? I mean, like a person, not a pet? Even though you’re a serf, a human?”

I open my eyes, and look his way. His face is serious, eyes direct; he’s not joking any more. “Yes. Yes, she loves me like a person. It’s very rare, but it can happen. It’s very… precious.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Yes. Twice now, in the almost twenty years I’ve been hers.”

Alois rubs his forehead. “Wow. I mean, she’s told me she loves me, and I can remember her singing me to sleep sometimes, when I was a kid… but the idea of her loving you, like that, is sort of weird to me. But it doesn’t feel weird for me to say I love you. This is all so confusing. Is it supposed to be?”

“Yeah, I think so. Otherwise, it wouldn’t hold so much of our attention. I’m glad it doesn’t feel weird for you to say you love me. It sure doesn’t feel odd to say that to you, honey. I do love you, indeed.”

“Is it just cause you had me for Mama?”

“That, and the fact that I volunteered for it, and that you’re a really neat person. It’s all tied up together. It’s a different sort of love than what I feel for your Mama, but the same in some ways, too.”

“She really, really enjoys you. You’re her favorite.”

“Um, yeah. Whatever. I guess. I never feel comfortable saying that. I mean, it can change, you know? It’s not like I want to brag about it or something.” I feel myself blushing as I say it, and grimace inside. When are you going to learn how to control that damn blush, girlfriend?

“But you are. I mean… do you do something really unusual, or are you different from other human women?”

“God, Alois…” I’m bright crimson now.

“I’m sorry. Skip it.” He actually blushes a little, amazing loss of control for a Draka, even a six year old one.

“No, no… no, I’m not physically different from other human women. Well, a little, since I have the rejuve virus inside me. I’m unaging now. That makes me somewhat different. I have more energy, too. But basically, physiologically, no, I’m not some sort of sexy mutant! And no, I don’t have any really unique talents… um… that way.”

“But then why are you her favorite?”

“Because…” I pause to think for a minute. A cardinal lands not far from us, a male in his bright red plumage and black robber’s mask, and his imperative “cheep! cheep!” is incredibly loud, over the chuckle of the nearby creek. “Because… I think there’s a bond there, a give and take kind of thing, that she doesn’t really find with her others. I mean, she certainly enjoys Tom, and Andri, and Jennifer, Alice… people like that. Plus her occasional lays in the hay, as she calls them. But what we have is sort of… deeper. More emotional that just the physical end of things.”

“Do you think you really know Mama?” He sounds so serious, I think.

“Yes, honey, I think I do. Behind all that hard-wiring you Draka all have, there’s a person, a person with a unique style, a way of seeing the world. And occasionally, very very rarely, you get to meet that person. It’s a very scary thing for a Draka to do, actually, to let down the guard mechanisms you’ve got built up in there, in your head, and let someone else in. But I’ve seen that inner person, in your Mama, and she’s allowed me in, on occasion.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s… very thoughtful, very sensitive. Very concerned about maintaining a balance between her personal life and her public responsibilities. She’s lonely, a lot of the time.”

“Why? She has you, and all of us kids, and all her serfs and horses and stuff…”

“But she misses someone.”

Alois ponders that for a moment. “Who?”

“Your namesake. Alois was her lover, her life partner, for over seventy years. He meant the world to her, and vice versa. She misses him terribly, sometimes. He was the only Draka she’s ever truly trusted.”

“But she didn’t trust Grandmother Yolande?”

“To an extent. But Yolande had… some, well, emotional instabilities. She had a very bad time when she lost her lover, and wasn’t really happy after that. Lots of sadness, that kind of stuff. Emotional disturbances. They’ve been corrected, for the most part, now, with her new self, but before, it was kind of hard to get very close to her. I think Gwen worried a lot about that growing up. That’s why she tried so hard to be the best at everything.”

“Like Alexa.”

“Kind of. Alexandra and Ariadne are intimidated by your Mama; you are, too, I think. That’s natural, given your hard wiring and Draka custom. She’s a very powerful woman. But she’s also a person inside. I’ve tried to explain this to Alexa, too. She and Mama went through a rough period right before she left to go to Senior School, and she came to talk with me about it. I told her about the person inside Mama, past the official mask, and maybe it made sense to her. Does it, to you?”

“Yeah, kind of.” He sits back, rocking on his heels, eyes clouded in thought. “But does she love me, even though I’m not as good at stuff as they are?”

“Yes! Yes, she loves you, Alois. Very much. More than she can say, sometimes. It comes hard, sometimes, for her to let you know how much she cares about you. But it’s there. I’ve seen it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. She loves you, for you.”

“But what if I…” Alois’ voice lowers to a whisper. “What if I can’t measure up, Erin?”

“She will always love you, no matter what you do. If you decide to be a scholar, a researcher, and not a front-line hot shot combat pilot like Alexa and Ariadne want to be, that’s your decision. Yours and the school’s. You know that. But I don’t want you to worry that because you’re not just like your sisters that your Mama won’t love you very much. She does, and she always will, no matter what.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Alois. I mean it.”

“Will you always love me?”

“Yes. Always and forever. No matter what.”

“Oh.”

There’re a few moments of companionable silence in the shade of the pine trees, as Alois digests what I’ve told him; I spend the time watching the clouds whisk by above the arching branches of the trees surrounding us, and watching the cardinal dance around, singing.

“Can I ask you some more stuff?”

“Sure, old boy!” I reach over and tousle his hair. “Ask away, darling.”

“Personal stuff, or are you gonna turn all red again?”

I sigh. Nothing like the insatiable curiosity of a Draka child, one that has knowledge about things most human children don’t even think about for years to come. “Okay, I’ll try not to go critical on you. Ask away. If it’s too personal, I’ll say so. Deal?”

“Deal!” He wraps his tanned arms around his legs and looks up into my face. “Um, when you and Mama, well, you know, do it, does she make you scream?”

“Great god almighty, child,” I exclaim, and then start laughing. That’s what Papaw said, when I asked him about sex, back years ago. “Um… well, yeah, sometimes.”

“Cause it hurts?”

“No! God, no… because it feels so incredibly fine.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, pardner, you’ve got to give me some background here. What’s this all about? I mean, I know you’ve seen the videos and training stuff via your transducer, and you know, in general, what goes where, and when, but… why questions about screaming and hurting?”

He picks a piece of grass and chews it meditatively. “Dunno.”

“Nope, no fair. I’m honest with you, kiddo. Your turn.” I pick a piece of grass too, and enjoy the sweet taste of it, watching his face.

“Well… you know Rudy? One of Alexa’s school friends?”

Oh, yeah, do I know Rudy Heinrikson. Jerk off, I think to myself. I nod, my face calm. I’ve only been fielding complaints about his habits since he’s been visiting now for three days…

“We were sitting at the pool, and Alexa asked him where his pretty boy was, you know, the one with the green stripe in his hair? With yellow eyes? I can’t remember his name.”

“I can’t either, but I certainly remember what he looked like. Go on,” I nod.

“Alexa asked him where his pretty buck was, and he said he’d broken him and sent him to one of the relocation centers yesterday, since he didn’t have any more use for him. I thought that was sort of weird, since we Ingolfssons never sell our serfs. It’s tradition.” Alois puffs his chest out a tiny bit at that, and I smile slowly.

“True, old boy. What’d he mean by breaking him? He seemed pretty damn tame when I saw him, the other night.” In my mind, I continue: he seemed terrified out of his freakin’ mind, and anyone with half a grain of sense can see that all of Rudy’s bricks aren’t balanced real well. A few marbles missing. One or two bats flying around in the belfry…

“Ariadne asked him that. I just stay quiet around him. I don’t like the way he smells sometimes. He gives me the creeps. Anyway, he said he ‘tore that pretty buck up so that he wasn’t of any use to anyone anymore except as a field hand’, and then he laughed. He got talking about how he made the boy scream and squeal, and how fun it was with humans.”

Shit, I subvocalize. Alois’ ears perk forward, a cat-like movement, and his eyes widen. “Um, Alois, does your Mama know about this yet?”

“No. Rudy said he sent the serf away on a regular transcar, one that was going up that way for groceries and such. No bother, he said. I wondered about it myself, since Mama had given him that pretty buck as a graduation present. Alexandra sort of looked at him and said something about being crude, rude and lewd, and he just laughed and said, ‘They’re replaceable, aren’t they? After all, there are so many of the little things rutting about and procreating more of themselves for us to use!’ Alexandra just looked at him again, and then someone changed the subject.”

“Man. That’s some heavy sh--um, stuff. Um… I think Mama should know about it. I’ll tell her. I mean, she’d notice, when the pretty buck didn’t leave with Rudy, but still… that’s several days away.” I spit out the chewed up stem of grass and sigh deeply.

“I don’t like him, Tantie-ma.”

“I don’t either. And I’ll tell you something else--he’s been unholy hell on Household staff since he’s been here. Shawonda, Alice and I have been fielding complaints left and right since he’s been here. He’s way too rough.”

“But I thought you said you screamed because it felt good, with you and Mama!”

“I did, and I do. It does. But what he’s talking about is abuse. Look, it’s like this. You Draka are in charge, and you hold the power of life and death in your hands over us humans and what-not. Okay? But because you do have that power, you’ve also got responsibilities. Part of the deal when we say you’re in charge is that you promise to protect us and guide us.”

Alois sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I’ve heard that lecture a thousand or so times already.”

“Well, what it means about sex is this: a very powerful person can hurt a less powerful person when they have sex together. Sometimes, the less powerful person likes that, and it’s mutually, well, agreeable. But when it’s not mutually agreeable, it gets pretty damn ugly. It’s called rape. The powerful person, in this case a Draka, has to be careful not to hurt their pretty bucks or their pretty girls, since the Draka is so much stronger than the human or servus.”

“Yeah, like when we play games with you, we can’t hit with all our strength, or throw too hard, cause then you get hurt and you won’t play anymore.”

“Right, exactly. Sex is like that, too. If you hurt the other person, they won’t enjoy having sex with you anymore. They may have to, since you own them, but they won’t like it. Then that takes some of the fun out of it for everyone involved, usually. Unless you have people like Rudy. He’s too intent on causing nothing but pain, no pleasure in there at all. Understand? He really must have hurt that poor boy, to send him off sneaky like that, so Shawonda, Alice or yours truly wouldn’t find out about it.”

“Hmm. Yeah. I think I see. But can’t we just use our pheromones, and make you like it?”

I rub my hands through my hair. This is a hell of a lot more complicated than the birds and the bees were when I was a kid. “Yeah, you can. Sometimes. Then the susceptible human enjoys it, on a physical level, but on a mental level, the fear’s still there. It can break people’s minds sometimes.”

“Oh, gross.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think. I mean, sex is wonderful. With someone you like, it’s nice, like a snack of potato chips. With someone you love, it’s like a big ole juicy steak, done just right. When I’m with your Mama, to continue the metaphor, it’s like an eight course meal with chocolate cake for dessert.”

“Are you hungry?” He laughs, delightedly, and then nods, more soberly. “I think I understand. But when he’s hurting someone, it’s like he’s getting all the fancy food and the other person’s having to eat sawdust or shit or something else gross. Right?”

“Exactly. Man, this really bothers me. I know there are some Draka who see humans as mere cattle, but Gw--I mean, your Mama’s been really careful about keeping those sorts away from Earth/2. They cause a great deal of unrest and political problems, and they usually aren’t very nice people, either.”

Alois’ eyes widen, and he blinks several times. That’s a sign that a Draka’s surprised, I think, and wonder why. Oh, yeah, when I almost slipped and called Gwen by her given name, instead of a title like Mama or Muhmis. Have to watch that, old girl; you’ve never slipped up yet after all these years.

“You can call her Gwen??”

“Um… well, when she and I are by ourselves. Yes. But I’m not supposed to in front of other people, so please don’t mention that I almost did. That was a mistake, Alois. It’s a very rare honor, and one I cherish with all my heart.”

“Wow. She really must love you then. I’m impressed.” He’s quiet for a moment, staring up through the branches to the cloud-covered sky. “Well, Tantie-ma, has Mama ever beaten you?”

“Spanked me, twice, no, three times. In twenty years. She’s slapped me once or twice. Not hard. She’s only spanked me hard enough to bruise once, and I had been pushing the limits for a few days. It was back when I was first getting used to being… owned.”

“Isn’t that abuse, then, like hurting someone when you’re having sex with them, and they don’t enjoy being hurt?”

“No. I think it’s different. I don’t believe in hitting people on a general basis, myself; I’d rather use other things as discipline. But when Muhmis hit me, she really, really didn’t enjoy it. Rudy, on the other hand, would get all excited by that. Muhmis did it as a last resort, something to jolt me into realizing I was walking a very thin, dangerous line between obedience and disaster.”

“Oh.”

“Alois, it’s like this. Some people like inflicting pain on other people. Some people like having pain inflicted on them. If those two people get together, and are consenting adults, and realize they have to be responsible about it--not breaking each other’s bones, and then missing work, stuff like that--then it’s okay. But that’s pretty unusual. For someone to hurt someone else who doesn’t enjoy being hurt, or who doesn’t consent to it, or who isn’t old enough to realize what’s happening, then it’s wrong. That’s my opinion.”

“It’s like beating your horse for not running fast enough.”

“Explain, so I know what you mean, old boy.”

He frowns, concentrating. “If I just beat my horse because I like to, then eventually it will make him run less and less, and it’ll scar his coat up, and mess up his muscles. A good horseman doesn’t beat his ride, unless it’s an emergency. If a feral ghouloon, or a wolf pack, or a tiger or something, was chasing us, I’d maybe whack my horse to make him realize how serious the situation was, and make him run just a little faster. But it’s just not… classy… to beat your horse all the time. It means you can’t control it well, and you aren’t a good rider.”

“That’s sort of the same thing when your Mama whacked me. It was to scare me a little, and make me realize who was in charge. But if she beat me all the time, you’re right--eventually, I’d just die.”

“Then that’s what Mama means when she talks about ‘managing your serfs, not mangling them’.”

“Yep. The same goes for sex. Mama is very, very strong. But I enjoy that, to an extent. If she gets too strong with me, she knows it, and stops, pulls back. Having that control, when you’re all hot and bothered, is a sign of being… classy. I’ve seen her with other Draka, and there… they don’t have to hold back, for fear of hurting the weaker one. That’s different.”

“She’s been with other Draka?”

“Of course she has, silly. Where’d you think you came from? The cabbage patch, mon petit chou? Your gene father is Schalt De Lange. They had sex together and then they had sex with me. That’s how I got pregnant with you.”

“Oh.”

“She merged eggs with Tamarindus Rohm, too, which is how Ariadne happened. I was there for that one, too. Whew! When you Draka folks go at it, watch out! The fur flies!” I chuckle, and blush, remembering the nights.

“Is it scary?”

He sounds a little worried, I think. “Well, for a human, just being on the sidelines, as it were, yeah, it’s a little scary. Two Draka can be very powerful and intense together. It’s like watching two eagles mating in midair. They can let their guards down, and just be as strong as they want to be. And it’s okay, because they both know when to stop. Like I said, having broken bones and stuff isn’t too cool. But it gets close to that. Pheromonally, it’s kinda overwhelming for a human. Like being mauled by two frisky lions or something.”

“And that’s when they took you together?”

“Yes, darlin’… and that’s about as far as I feel comfy going there with you, young sir. If you have questions, ask your Mama.”

“Uh, right.” He blushes, and stands up, stretching. “It’s all kinda silly to me right now. I’d rather ride horses, or wrestle, or go swimming. Let’s go for a swim in the creek and look for crewdads.”

“Crewdads? Oh, crawdads. It’s craw, not crew. That makes them sound like crustaceans wearing turtlenecks or something, goofy boy. Okay, let’s go wading.” I stand up, too, and take his hand. We walk down the grassy slope to the water, and splash around for quite some time, getting fingers liberally pinched by angry crawdads.

“Ow! That makes number twelve, and my fingers are all sore, plus two toes. I quit!” I finally call out. His laughter, like elfin bronze bells in the afternoon wood, rings up to me, and makes tiny shivers go down my back. They’re so beautiful, I think, so wonderful but so intent on being dominant, rulers of all they see. It’s all they think about, mostly. What a shame…

“So here you two are…” Gwen’s voice startles me, and I turn around, instantly aware of how my shirt’s plastered to my chest, and how muddy my feet are. She’s sitting coolly on her horse, dressed in her riding pants and a white linen blouse. Her long red hair cascades down her back, free for a change from the usual utilitarian club she keeps it braided up in. My breath catches at the beauty of her, and our eyes meet.

“Mama! Hey, we caught crew--um, crawdads, and I found a really cool fossil! See?” Alois comes sprinting up the creek toward us, holding the rock out for her inspection.

“Yes, indeed… crewcrawdads?” Gwen grins quizzically down at me, and ruffles my sweaty, wet hair. “Interesting fossil, child of my heart. We’ll look it up when we get home, sound fun?” She palms the rock, examining it closely. Alois does a little impromptu dance of joy--he loves spending time in Gwen’s library more than anything in the world, I think.

“Crawdads… little crustaceans. They pinch. They look like little lobsters.” I blush, and try to push some of my hair back behind my ears. “Sorry we’re so messy. Got carried away, I guess.”

“But we had fun. And we talked about a bunch of stuff…” Alois looks at me, and I nod, slightly. I’ll let him take the lead on telling about lovely Rudy. It’s only right. As he does so, haltingly, slowly, Gwen’s eyes narrow and she stiffens ever so slightly in the saddle. I know she’s getting annoyed, and shiver.

“And so then I told Tantie-ma, and she thought we should tell you, right away. I hope you’re not mad at me, Mama. You smell sort of mad, and… well, disgusted.” Alois holds the bridle of the horse, looking earnestly up into his mother’s still, aquiline, tanned face.

“I am disgusted.” She sighs, deeply. “No, child, I’m not angry with you. You’ve done the right thing, telling Tantie-ma Erin and then me. I’ll take care of the situation, right away. Why don’t you two hop up here and I’ll take you back to the House? It’s almost time for dinner.”

“Really, Mama? You’re not mad at me?” Alois looks worried, but the frown runs away from his face as Gwen stoops from the saddle and hoists him onto her lap. She gives him a hard kiss, and strokes his face gently.

“No, darlin’, I’m not angry with you. I love you. You’re just not used to seeing me like this. It’s all right, my little ‘un.” She kisses him again, and then holds an arm out to me. “Here, sweetlin’, put your foot in the saddle, and use my arm to lift up. Swing up behind me, on the blanket.”

“I can walk, really--I’m all muddy and wet…” I eye the horse nervously, and Gwen chuckles.

“No, I’d like to see you for dinner, and afterwards. So come on up here, my little chicken.”

“You say the nicest things to me, Muhmis,” I mutter in her ear, as I settle down behind her for the ride back to the House.

I’ll have more nice things to say to you tonight, my pretty pony… Gwen’s voice echoes in my head, and I giggle, wrapping my arms securely around her slender, iron-muscled waist as we canter toward home. This life ain’t boring, that’s for sure, I think as we ride along the pine-mulched pathways. Not boring at all.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“What’s up, Erin?” Jennifer moves around the table in the informal dining room, her face worried. “I’ve been hearing rumors that there’s going to be a duel, but who? And why?”

“Already? Jeezie petes, word travels fast around here, and not all that accurately, either,” I say quietly, sipping my glass of white wine. “No duel, at least not yet. And I hope not at all. But there is trouble brewin’, as Mamaw used to say. Keep your head down and your eyes open, old girl.”

“Can’t you tell me what it’s--”

Jennifer closes her mouth and bows her head, semi-formally, as I do, too: the Draka stalk into the room, their presence unmistakable and riveting. A blast of tension hits us as they enter the cool, sunlit dining room, and I shiver. Gwen’s hand signals ever so slightly, and we straighten up. I notice the wine in my glass is moving; I’m trembling that much.

“Let’s be seated, shall we? Marybeth, you may serve dinner now.” Gwen takes her place at the high end of the table, in her tall-backed chair, and the rest of the homo drakensis sit down after she has. No one says anything; the children are silent and watchful, their hair bristling slightly. An undercurrent of muted growls seems to float down the table toward where Jennifer and I sit, along with some of the other Household upper-level staff.

We sit down near the door, at the lower end of the table, and I’m glad we’re as far away as we can politely get. Jennifer’s eyes are huge and dark, and she’s gone pale. Never before in the Household have either of us felt this tension, I realize; this is somewhat like the feeling when the Arrival was beginning. When the world was being taken over, overnight, by the huge black, shimmering Draka orbital battle stations. I shudder, remembering the fear and the gut-wrenching tension. It’s the same, now, but on a smaller scale.

Marybeth serves a lovely dinner, fried chicken or roast beef, homemade mashed potatoes, green beans, salad, fresh bread hot out of the oven. Its scent, rising to me from my china plate, momentarily soothes me, and I inhale, deeply, trying to retain some semblance of calm. I empty my wine glass, too, and signal for more. Jennifer joins me in a glass this time around, I notice. She’s not eating much; no one down on our end of the table seems to be very hungry. I go ahead and eat; I’m starved after an afternoon playing with Alois. My appetite for food, as well as for sex, has gone up dramatically after the rejuve virus was introduced into my system; I need less sleep and I have a hell of a lot more energy, too. One of the bonuses, I guess, of surviving the first archaic human full rejuve experiments.

The Draka at the other end of the mahogany table are eating massively, as they always do. Marybeth and her servers are kept busy from one end of the meal to the other, bringing new plates and taking away empty ones, refilling wine and juice glasses, bringing coffee after dessert. The kitchen outdid itself on the dessert, a shimmering concoction of chocolate, coconut and cream, and I nibble at the edge of mine. Have to save this for later, when I feel less tense, I think, and push the plate away.

As if that was something Gwen was watching for, she clears her throat loudly, and the room goes absolutely, completely silent. All eyes, human, servus, kawtuh, and drakensis, turn to her as she sits limned in the dying light of the sun, reclining at her leopard-like ease in her chair. She sips her coffee and then places the cup and saucer precisely, silently, on the table before her. Leaf-green, completely cold eyes turn to spear Rudy Heinrikson with a look.

“You have transgressed on your privileges as a guest of my Household. You have behaved in a manner that is entirely reprehensible. I know about Lars, the pretty buck I gave you as a graduation present when you arrived here as a guest of my eldest. I have had him returned to Earth/2, and he’s undergoing surgery as we speak. As you obviously cannot be trusted with a human, I have reclaimed him. Do you wish to challenge that, Heinrikson?”

All eyes swivel to look at the young Draka male, who is fighting to cover a snarl. He’s shredded the linen napkin he was holding, and I notice that Schalk de Lange and two of his black-uniformed Draka security team members have pushed their chairs slightly away from the table. Gwen, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, betrays only the slightest tension by the hint of a quiver in her upper lip. But there’s death in her eyes. I look away, feeling queasy.

“No. I do not wish to challenge that. You may keep the buck, if you wish. He didn’t serve me well, and I disciplined him.”

“Discipline, good discipline, is not something that usually requires surgery to repair.” Gwen’s voice has gone icy. Jennifer, next to me, suddenly grasps her wine glass and drains it at a single gulp. No one else moves.

Rudy Heinrikson glances coolly over to when Gwen is sitting. “Some families have different ideas about discipline than others, Elder One. My family happens to believe that--”

“Your family is disgraced.”

The doors to the room swing open, and reveal a man, a Draka dressed in walking blacks, standing there. “Get up, you young whelp, and come home with me.”

Who in the world…I wonder, and then look twice. The family resemblance is impossible to miss, even though the son’s face is contorting now into a rictus hate mask of angular planes and white, sharp teeth. His snarl rips through the room, and he stands, knocking the chair over backwards. It shatters, and pieces skitter around on the marble floor. I jump about out of my seat, and so do most of the other humans and servus.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet your father, you insolent fool?” The man shrugs into a combat stance, and Gwen stands, as well, joined by Schalk and his two security officers. Alexandra begins to join them, and then slowly obeys Gwen’s hand signal to sit back down and be quiet. I look over at Ariadne, and see the territorial rage burning in her eyes just like her sister’s; Alois is pale, wide eyed and breathing hard.

“I’m of age. You can’t push me around anymore, like you’ve always done. And since when do you come running like a lap dog when Planetary Archon Ingolfsson calls, father mine? What deals has she cut you in on? No, don’t bother telling me…I don’t care to know.” Rudy turns slowly towards Gwen, and then spits calculatedly on the table before her. “I no longer desire the hospitality of your house, Citizen. You offend me.”

“Why you little…” growls Schott de Lange, moving toward the young man with fists clenched. “How dare you…”

“Wait.” Gwen’s voice has gone from cold to absolutely glacial; de Lange freezes, looking at her from his crouched position. He’s literally quivering with the need to strike, I realize, and glance at the doorway. No exit there, with Rudy’s father standing there, flanked by two of his servus. I look behind me, at the floor to ceiling French doors, and plan my escape route. I’ll grab Jennifer with one hand, shove her out the door, and then grab Alois and any human I can catch quickly…if I can move that fast.

“You have something to say to me?” Rudy’s voice has grown steadily more and more insolent throughout the entire episode, and I’ve never heard anyone address Muhmis like that.

“Not only are you a fool, you are an embarrassment to the Race. I believe your father is well aware of that, now. You may have tried to ignore it before, Alton, but this you can’t deny.” Gwendolyn moves from behind the table, and walks toward the young Draka. “And the Race does not tolerate such obvious aberrations as yourself, Rudy Heinrikson.”

“Archon, please, I can take him to an alienist, have something done…” Alton Heinrikson begins, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s far too late for that.” Gwen stands within reach of Rudy, waiting.

I miss the first blow, a slanting punch launched from Rudy’s left fist, but see the flurry of motion from Gwen as she blocks the attempt and lashes out with a strike of her own. Schalk plants himself and the two Ingolfsson security people between Alton Heinrikson and his son, and the other Draka around the table spring out of the way.

Grabbing Jennifer’s hand, I push her toward the French doors, almost roughly. “Go, now, while you can. Here, take her, too,” handing her a stunned and weepy serving wench who’s been cowering by the drapes. “Go on, git!”

I then make my way carefully around the circle of growling, snarling Draka, hearing the meaty thud of impacting flesh on flesh, until I find Alois. He’s standing on the table, avidly watching his mother literally tearing Rudy Heinrikson apart with her bare hands. Not the kind of thing that’s good for any child to watch, Draka or human, I think to myself, and grab him from behind. He jumps and howls, and Gwen’s concentration is broken for a millisecond.

Rudy manages to launch a blow with his one remaining good hand that catches her solidly on the side of her neck, and she staggers. He crows triumphantly, and kicks her legs out from under her with a sweeping side kick, and tries to pounce on top of her. A piece of the chair suddenly sprouts from his gut, though, and he looks down at it in a puzzled manner. A thin drool of blood drips from his mouth, and mixes with the spreading pool already spattering across the white marble floor.

Gwen’s on her knees, in a crouch, and it was her hand that shoved the leg of the broken chair into his belly. She hawk-shrieks herself, and kicks the piece of wood all the way through the young man. I hear, with an oddly detached feeling, the clatter of the hardwood on the floor as it bounces under the table. I also hear Alois’ snarl in my ear as he pummels me. “Let me down, Tantie-ma, let me down!”

“Hush. You’re coming with me; it’s not safe here. Too many Draka, too many chances for you to get hurt. Come on, now, Alois, quit hitting me!” I have him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and have a tight hold on his muscular little legs. But that doesn’t stop him from catching me a good one in the left kidney as I get him out the doors, and my knees buckle with the pain. My vision fogs for a second, and I feel distinctly ill, and then someone’s taking his thrashing form from me. I look up into the furry face of Gwen’s kawtuh, a present from Tamarindus Rohm.

“I’ve got the little master, Sera Erin. I’ll take him to his quarters and calm him down. You’re right, you know--far too dangerous in there for a little one like this.” The lilting, sweet sound of the kawtuh’s voice calms me through my pain, and I nod. He jogs away, Alois fussing audibly in his arms: 

“Let me down! Damn all your eyes, no one listens to me! I say, let me down!” His voice fades as the boy and the kawtuh disappear inside the House. I look back inside the informal dining room, and then close my eyes. I wish I hadn’t looked, I think miserably to myself, as I hurl my dinner onto the grass. Gwen was standing, blood-spattered, with the glazing eyes of Rudy staring at her. She had his head, torn from his body, at eye level, and was wolf-laughing her triumph. I hunch in the grass, feeling entirely unwell, and then notice black clad boots next to my face.

“Tantie-ma, don’t take on so. It’s all over, and Mama’s fine, except for a few bites and that big bruise on her neck...Tantie-ma, it’s okay, really…” Ariadne stoops down, her face worried, and I try to focus on her green-blue eyes, and ignore the spatters of blood across one of her shoulders. “Here, now, come on, I’ll help you up to your rooms, or maybe to Mama’s suite. She’ll need some help cleaning up.” Strong but gentle arms lift me, and I relax in Ariadne’s grip, resting my head against her shoulder (the one that’s not bloody, I note with relief). 

“Sorry about barfing…oh, man, I wish Alois hadn’t tried to relocate my kidney,” I sigh. 

“Better than what happened in there…” Ariadne says, with a savage glee. “Man… I know I’ll never challenge Mama, at least not for a few centuries or so, if ever. Can she fight mean or what?”

“Um, I tried not to watch, actually.”

“Race Spirit, I’d never have thought you were so…”

“Wimpy?”

“Yeah!” She laughs, softly, and kisses my forehead. “But that’s okay, too, Tantie-ma. You’re not of the Race, so you aren’t supposed to be very, well, interested in all that. But it was one hell of a fight. He would’ve been brain-wiped, probably, anyway. That’s what his father was talking about.”

“It was?” I try to remember, and recall the distraught man saying something about an alienist.

Ariadne gently sits me down on the edge of the couch in her mother’s quarters, and brushes my hair back from my forehead. “Yep. He was seriously aberrant; Mama wasn’t joking about tolerance when she said what she said. This afternoon, she called me and Alexandra into her office here and we found out just how twisted Rudy really was. He’d been hiding it for quite some time, but messing with the pretty buck Mama gave him was the final straw. And the most obvious of his little, well, problems. But there are several serfs on PrimeLine’s Mars that have turned up missing. That’s kinda bad, you know. Bad for his family, too. Major social oopsy, Erin.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” I pause as Gwen walks through the ironwood doors. She stops and looks at us, smiling slowly.

“Thanks for getting Mr. ‘Nobody listens to me’ out of harm’s way, my sweet. And thanks, too, Ariadne my love, for bringing Tantie-ma Erin up here. I was planning on collecting her on my way up here anyway…” Gwen sighs, and rubs the side of her neck. “Shouldn’t have let that one get through…I’ll be sore for a bit, that’s for sure.”

“As long as you’re all right, Mama. And… thank you for defending our honor, Mother.” Ariadne stands up, formal now, face serious.

“You’re welcome, light of my heart. I know you’d have done the same thing in my place. Too bad about his father, though…”

“What about him? The social disgrace?” I ask softly, not wanting to intrude but curious.

Gwen squats down smoothly next to me and kisses me lightly on the lips. I try not to notice the slight aftertaste of blood, and kiss her back, relieved beyond words that she really is okay. 

“No, my sweetlin’…after the fight, in fact approximately six minutes ago, he committed suicide. By the aircar landing pad.”

“Oh, my god! How awful!” I touch her face with my hands, gently, feeling the tender skin around a series of fist-shaped bruises. “Oh, man…”

“What a dishonor for his family,” says Ariadne, quietly, shocked. She goes over to look out the window at the star-studded sky. “How terrible.”

“Ah, well… these things happen. Alton Heinrikson knew for years that something was seriously wrong with his only son, and he was one of those people who won’t make a fuss for fear of making a fuss. Loss of two Draka for the Race, something I certainly never enjoy, either personally or as Archon, but it’s something that happened. Both were somewhat…inferior specimens.” Gwen kisses the tips of my fingers, and then taking my hands, stands me up and begins walking me to the bathing facility.

“I’ll leave you two alone to get cleaned up…and to celebrate…” smirks Ariadne, and nodding at her mother, and winking at me, bounds out of the room, leaving us with quiet for a few moments.

As the bath fills, I strip Gwen down gently, and then she watches me undress, with evident enjoyment. I test the water--hot for me, but lukewarm for Gwen’s tastes. “It’s ready, Muhmis…”

“Good. So am I,” she murmurs, coming up behind me and caressing me. Her tongue, hot, long, and slightly pointed, flicks into my ear, and I gasp as her hands slide between my thighs. “Ah… you’re ready, as well, my sweet. Mmmmhhh…”

**  
Later…

“I’m really sorry I hit you, Tantie-ma,” Alois says, looking down and digging a toe into the carpet. “And that I distracted Mother.”

“Good,” I say, and crouch down until our faces are level. I smile, and my heart turns over as Alois does too. “It takes courage to apologize when you’re wrong. I’m glad to see my son is brave enough to do the right thing.”

He grins at that, giving me a hug and then dashing over to do the same with Erin. Then he peeks back at me. “I still wish I could have seen the fight, mom. You were great.”

I laugh, then wince slightly – not enough for a human to notice generally, but Erin does. “It’s all right,” I say to quiet her alarm. “I’m just not blocking the pain – by way of teaching myself a lesson. I should have noticed earlier, and done something about it. That young proof that genetics isn’t an exact science yet is no loss, but his father is, in a way… and I’m extremely sorry that buck was injured. No excuse for it.”

Jennifer comes in. “Muhmis, I’ve talked to Dianne – she’s putting out the usual difference-of-opinion-leading-to-unfortunate-fatality announcement. She says the rumor mill will have something like the true version out soon as well.”

“Good,” I say. “An object lesson’s never wasted.”

She’s a little pale; I take her scent, and it hints of unhappiness and fear. “You’re a little shaken still, aren’t you?”

“Yes… it was so quick.”

“Best over quickly.” I look at her. “Draka are like that, Jenny. We’re predators. Don’t forget it.”

“Oh, I won’t,” she says, rubbing her hands up and down her arms; she has… yes, goose bumps, they’re called.

“Come here.” I pull her down on my lap and cradle her. “Shhhh, now. It’s over, everyone’s safe.” Erin comes over and puts an arm around her as well. “There now, that’s a good wench. Cry if it’ll help.”

When she’s finished sniffling and hiccupping, I carry her over to the bed. She needs reassurance, forgetfulness, and besides, Erin was a little sore with that kidney-punch Alois landed. I still need letdown, after the fight. 

“Mind if I stay on the sidelines for a bit, muhmis?” Erin says.

“Oh, we’ll find something for you to do later, sweet,” I say, looking down at Jenny affectionately. 

She gasps a little as I grip the neckline of her tunic and strip it off her with a single smooth pull. “You’ve gotten a little bigger here since you nursed,” I say. Her next gasp turns into an incoherent moan, her fingers tangled in my hair.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“ ‘Ensign Pillsbury? He’s bread, Jim!’” 

Alois chortles. “He’s dead, Jim!”

“Jim, he’s dead!” I reply, grinning. Another generation of Trekkies has been created, and it even includes nonhumans, now, I think. What would Gene Roddenberry think? He probably wouldn’t be surprised…

The young boy jumps up to stand on the seat of his chair, and proclaims: “Jim, he’s dead!”

“I’m a doctor, dammit, not a…” I pause for a moment, thinking.

“Historian!” yells Alois, dancing up and down.

“Librarian!” 

“Horse handler!”

“Draka!”

“Oh, yeah, that’s great, Tantie-ma! ‘I’m a doctor, Jim, not a Draka!’ That’s great!”

“What in the name of Race Spirit are you two up to in here?” Gwen strides smoothly, like a tiger, into the library, an amused half-grin on her face.

Alois looks at her, pauses, and then says: “ ‘I’m a doctor, Jim, not an Archon!’” He then jumps from his chair onto the couch I’m sitting on…

The two of us collapse helplessly, laughing. I laugh until tears run down my face, and Alois’ face is red from his hilarity. Gwen watches us, walking over to sit in her chair by the fireplace. She stretches out and waits until we’ve finished. I sit up, on the couch, and prop a still-giggling Alois up next to me.

“Have to warn me, old boy, when you’re going to leap across the room like that!” I chuckle. “Or I’ll be… bread!”

Amidst Alois’ high-pitched, wolf-like yips of laughter, Gwen looks completely puzzled. “I must have really missed something here… I don’t understand.”

“Oh, Muhmis, it’s related to that show, the television show that Peter and I told you about so many years ago. The reruns are still on, and Alois and I have been watching them. Star Trek, remember?”

“Ah,” she muses, stroking one long finger along her chin. “Yes. I think I do. Going boldly where no one has gone before, something like that. Odd little show, but it had some surprising correlations to things that actually have happened. Not bad acting, either. So that’s a favorite show of yours, Alois?”

“Y-y-yes, Mama.” He sits up, and tries to look more serious. “I like it, and AdventureZone, and Mars: the Next Step. It’s cool, too. When can we go to this Mars, Mama? I really want to go.”

“I think it will be a little bit before you can go. One, you have school; two, I’m busy with my job, darlin’, and three, it’s not as much fun or as safe as Mars is on our PrimeLine. We’ll go there for your birthday, how’s that sound? Visit Aunt Tam?”

“Wow! Yippee!” He dashes over and hugs her, hard, around the neck, climbing into her lap to get there. She laughs, a husky, mellow sound, and hugs her son back. It makes me feel good to see them like that, together, without focusing on who’s in charge, or who has more prestige, or all the other myriad things that Draka think about when there’s two or more of them together. I sigh a little, and sit back, brushing my hair out of my face. Time to get it cut, girl, I think to myself, looking at the strands of long, dark blonde hair in my hands. Looking like a hippie girl, you are. 

Oh, no, it is sounding like Yoda I am. The line goes through my head and I’m snickering before I can stop myself. Gwen looks up from gently nuzzling the top of her son’s head, her purr rumbling from deep inside, and raises an eyebrow at me. I blush, and shake my head from side to side, trying to indicate that what I was tickled at has nothing to do with anything…

“No, no… why were you laughing, my pretty-girl?” Muhmis kisses her son and then puts him on his own two feet. Alois turns to me, and smiles.

“I bet I know why… she thought of another way to say, ‘He’s dead, Jim!’ Right?”

“It is dead, he is being, Jim.” I say it like Yoda, and for a moment, I am faced with two confounded Draka; their faces mirror each other’s almost perfectly. Then Alois snaps his fingers, and laughs.

“It’s that movie…um, The Empire Strikes Back, right? From the Star Wars trilogy! It’s, oh, what was his name, the guy who could float… uh… Yodel? No. Yada? Yoda! That’s it!”

“Is this different from the Star Trek show?” Gwen chuckles, amused and tolerant. She’s used to my mind going off in different directions by now, after twenty years of… owning me, I think, the last part harder to think than the first. My smile fades a little, and I nod to Alois.

“You’ve got it, Mr. Eidetic Memory Boy. Yoda, it is. Indeed, yes.” I grin at Gwen. “Yes, Muhmis, it’s different from the Star Trek show. The Star Wars trilogy is a classic collection of movies. You should watch them sometime with us. I’d love to see what you think of The Force.”

“Which is?”

“Can’t tell you--it’d spoil the movie!”

“There’s absolutely nothing you can’t tell me, my wench!” Gwen springs to her feet and lands astride me, white teeth flashing in a wide smile. “Nothing. And I know ways of getting it out of you, too. So does Alois, don’t you?” She’s bending over me, her face inches from mine. I see some deviltry in her eyes, and humor, and watch wide-eyed as she raises a hand, forming it into a claw…

“Oho, yes, Mama, I know ways…” Alois climbs up onto the couch next to me, holding his hand like his mother’s hand. He looks down at me, and does his best Evil Laugh. “Wuh-huh-huh-ha-ha-haaa…”

“Y’all, now…” The rest of what I was going to say turns into a shriek, as both Gwen and Alois start tickling me, one on either side. I manage to get about half-way up the back of the couch, hoping to boost myself over and away from them, but then Alois grabs my legs, and begins tickling my feet unmercifully.

They’re both laughing, as I squeak and try to slither away, helplessly. I finally decide, while I’m still able to breathe and think relatively coherently, that the best defense is a good offense… I start by blowing a raspberry on Gwen’s neck. She arches up, surprised, and then kisses me, hard and slow.

“Eeeuuw. Mushy stuff.” Alois looks up from his torturer’s work at my feet, and makes a face. Gwen wraps a leg around him, her double-jointedness always surprising to me, and hikes him up in the air next to her. 

“Mushy stuff, eh?”

“Yeah, Mama…we were having fun, and then you have to go an---” He breaks off in a helpless giggle as she moves. She turns, lightning fast, and sits on me, almost crushing my breath away, and then pulls Alois onto her lap. Her hands move, blurring, and he begins writhing, trying to tickle back. “Mama!”

“Muh-mis!” I groan, trying to move under her. She laughs out loud, and leans back against me.

“Yes, darlings?”

Together, both Alois and I yell: “Pax!”

“Pax it is, then, sweetlins…” Gwen kisses both of us, gently this time, and gets up off me. “But you will tell me about ‘The Force’, won’t you?”

“Yes! Yes! I will! Just no more tickling, or Draka-squashing! Please!” I manage to get out, holding my sides. “I’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to hear about Star Wars, Lord Vader!”

“Hmm?” Gwen runs her hands through my hair. “Don’t you mean Muhmis?”

“That’s the big bad guy in Star Wars--Lord Darth Vader. He’s on the Dark Side.” Alois has perched on the arm of the leather couch, and cocks his head my way. “I want to be Han Solo, myself. Are you supposed to be Princess Leia?”

“No, I feel like C3PO right now…”

“Okay, I’m going to have to see this thing, if I want to be able to communicate with you two, right?” Gwen says, sitting down next to me and then wrapping an arm, muscles moving like machined steel in oil, around me. “So let’s plan on having a movie night. We’ll have some hot cocoa, and maybe some toasted sandwiches…”

“Popcorn, Mama, you have to have popcorn for movies!” Alois says, condescendingly. “Really, Mama! Toasted sandwiches… but that reminds me, I am a bit hungry. Let’s go get something to eat from the kitchen!”

“You’re always hungry,” I laugh. “But then again, you are a Draka. Just like your Mama here, who could probably eat a moose in one setting.”

“Been there, done that. Enjoyed it.” Gwen’s long legs stretch out before us. “Quite tasty, actually. Better raw.”

“Blech!” I make a face. “That is, with respect, Muhmis. Blech, respectfully. I want my steak dead. Cooked, not quivering. Vittles jest ain’t vittles if they’s still a’runnin’ around when you done et ‘em.”

“Silly wench!” She kisses me again, on the lips, and Alois sighs. I can picture his eyes rolling expressively, I think, as I return the kiss with interest. Gwen tongues me one last time and then waves a hand at Alois. “All right, don’t carry on so… I won’t take her in front of you, if that’s what’s worrying you, darlin’ boy. Let’s do go get something to eat, though. That sounds…what was Peter’s word for it, Erin? Festive? Come on. Last one to the kitchen has to clean the plates…”

Of course I’m the last one to the kitchen, I think, as the two red heads race down the marble-floored corridor. Unless they decide to… ambush me. Hmm. Well, let’s see about that. I don’t hear them running anymore, but that may be because they’re naturally silent when they run. Draka place their feet down, instead of tapping them, Gwen explained to me once. I duck into the next room, an office, and wait a moment. Then I double back to the library.

A panel on one wall, by Gwen’s desk, hinges open, and the floating dumbwaiter is there, patiently awaiting its use. It’s big enough, I think, but am I crazy enough? My ears strain to hear the slightest sound, and then I check with my transducer. Nope, Gwen’s jamming their location out. That’s proof enough for me, they’re planning an ambush. I climb into the dumbwaiter and use my transducer to order it to the kitchen.

As it descends, I realize it’s going too damn slow. I override the built-in speed limits with a terse order, and it begins to drop faster. In seconds, I’m there, and I pop out of the dumbwaiter as it sighs to a smooth stop. The controller unit in the machine complains to me about wear and tear, and then threatens to report it to the Household Steward. Oh, like whatever, I think. Report me to my wife. That’s fine. I send a mental finger to the up-tight control unit, which of course it doesn’t know how to interpret. As I come to my feet, I realize everyone in the kitchen has frozen.

The night cook, MaryBeth, stands with a frying pan hefted over one shoulder, looking about ready to whang it up side my head. I spread my hands in a peaceful gesture, and grin. Just then, Alois and Gwen burst into the kitchen, Gwen slightly behind her son. Their eyes are narrowed, and they’re looking for me. I duck behind MaryBeth, and she stands there, like the rest of the staff, frozen in shock.

“All right, Erin. Come out from behind her,” Gwen says, instantly catching my movement from the corner of her eye. “Damn. How’d you… the dumbwaiter??”

“Yes, Muhmis. And I believe the deal was the last one in the kitchen washes the plates, wasn’t it?” I grin, and walk over to take her hands in mine. She meets my eyes and I swear I see some admiration for my sneaky tactical move in them.

The kitchen staff, on hearing this, starts to gather round, all ears. Gwen looks from side to side, so fast no one but me catches it, and then relaxes. “Ah… well. That was what I said, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, Mama, it’s what you said, and I wasn’t the last one!!” Alois says, grinning from ear to ear. “Guess who gets to wash our dishes, Tantie-ma?”

Gwen sighs, then nods briefly. “I made the bet, so I’ll keep it. MaryBeth, what do you have for two hungry Draka and a tactically-advanced human wench?”

“Oh, Muhmis, just let me show you what I’ve got. Y’all come on over here, and take a look. There’s roast beef, there’s chicken, there’s fresh salmon, there’s some of that buffalo hump steak you like so much, Muhmis… there’s salads, and some fresh fruit, and some corn, fresh from the garden this afternoon. And some melon, and I’ve got some sweet potato pie for Sera Erin, too, and some okra I can fry up in seconds…” The woman walks us through the larder, and we pick out our meals. 

The kitchen servers are efficient and friendly, and almost before we’ve sat down at the large, wooden table in the kitchen, our meals are being placed before us. I enjoy the sound of each plate landing on the table, and Alois, winking at me, leans over, his hand cupped around one ear. “Oh, what a lovely sound, Mama, I never noticed before. China sounds so nice being placed on the table!”

“Oho, I’m going to pay for this, aren’t I?” Gwen finishes her steak with relish, and smiles over her coffee cup at her son and me. “Enjoy it while you can, both of you!”

The meal is soon history, and I see Alois nodding over his dessert plate. “Honey, why don’t you go up and get ready for bed? I’ll come check on you in a bit, okay?”

“Aren’t we…” he pauses to yawn, “aren’t we gonna watch those movies, Tantie-ma?”

“We can watch them tomorrow night, after you and I go over your assignments for the week, Alois. Now run on up to bed. I’ll do my chore, and then tuck you in. Hmm?” Gwen finishes her brandy and runs her hand along the side of his face.

“Aw, Ma…”

“No complaining, now, young pup…off to bed.”

“Yes, Mama. Goodnight, MaryBeth, thanks for dinner and the chocolate cake you made me!” He scoots out from the table, nods at his mother and then scampers out the door. MaryBeth signs for one of the two remaining servers to clear the table.

“No, stop. You can go ahead and leave; I’ll finish up here.” Gwen touches the young man’s hand, and his eyes bulge in surprise.

“B-b-b-but, Muhmis, that is… I mean… um, Sera MaryBeth?”

“MaryBeth, go ahead and release them for the night, there’s a dear. I made a bet, I lost it, and I’ll do the dishes. The rest of you may leave. Thanks for a lovely late-night snack, all of you. It was quite good.” Gwen stands, holding her plate.

MaryBeth closes her mouth, and nods fractionally at the servers. They disappear. The cook walks over to the sink where Gwen stands, looking down at the apparatus. “I’ll do it, Muhmis, and nobody’ll know! You don’t need to be doin’ no dishes!”

“It’s what I bet, and I stand by my word, sweet. Thanks anyway. Where’s the soap?”

I walk over to the two of them, and slide an arm around Gwen’s trim waist. “I’ll assist this helpless waif, MaryBeth. I’ve done enough KP in my time to know a thing or two.”

“You sure?” MaryBeth’s brown eyes are as wide as teacups.

“Yes, honey, we’re sure. Thanks, Erin.” Gwen smiles at the shocked cook, and nods toward the kitchen door. “Go on, now, we’ve kept you up later than usual anyway. We’ll have this place cleaned up in a little bit, promise.”

“Well, if you say so, Muhmis…” MaryBeth shakes her head, looking at Gwen admiringly. “You sure do stand by your word, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so…” She grins whitely and then winks at me, taking off her apron and handing it over. “You’ll need this, and there’s more in that closet over there.”

“Thanks.” I take the apron, and expertly tie it around Gwen. The effect is rather comical; it’s a sight I never would have bet on… a homo drakensis, the biggest, baddest predator in the universe, in an apron, doing her dishes. Betty Crocker, watch out, I think, and smile up at my Muhmis.

“Let’s get this over with, my dear,” she murmurs, and walks over to the table to begin stacking plates and bowls.

“Yes, Muhmis,” I grin. I get another apron, and start the water and soap for the rinsing; thank god there’s a state-of-the-art dishwasher here, so we won’t have to do everything by hand. I won, though, I think, I won the bet, and that’s amazing. I surprised Gwen. That’s even more amazing. I jump slightly as she kisses me on the back of the neck, and plunks dishes into the hot, soapy water. Hmm. Washing dishes with Gwen may be an interesting experience, I think, as she looks me over. I know what that look means.

“Remember, Muhmis mine… your son is waiting for you to tuck him in bed…” I say quietly, watching her face. She grins, and leaning over, gives me another kiss.

“Oh, I know. I know. We’ll tuck him into bed, and then I’m tossing you into bed, too. ‘Indeed, true it is, wench mine.’ ”

“Oh, god, you’ve already caught it… there’s no hope for you now, Gwen!” We laugh, human and Draka together, as the pile of dishes slowly makes its way into the dishwasher. The odd friendship this person and I have, I think, is getting more and more interesting as time goes by, and now I have as much time as she does…


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Flags flap and snap in the stiff breeze, and I bury my nose into the fur collar of my jacket. It’s damn cold here on Mars for humans, I think. No wonder our best training facilities for the Space Force Terraformers has been way North on Earth. It’s colder than… a shiver interrupts the thought, and then the sound of trumpets blaring announces the arrival of the aircar.

It sinks smoothly to the ground, and a scent of peppermint comes from the crushed ground flowers on the landing pad as the craft settles. A hatch dials open, and a wave of movement goes through the crowd. Serfs, human and nonhuman, sink to their knees, as I do, and hands cover their eyes. I hate this, I think ever so silently to myself. This is ludicrous. But necessary, at least from the Draka point of view. It’s a very visible and physical sign of submission and obedience, and serves that purpose well, I ruminate mentally. The cold quickly reaches for my knees on the soft three-petaled flower carpet, even though I have on a pair of tailored slacks made out of wool. The trumpets blare again, and everyone on their knees looks up.

The groom descends from the aircar, carried on the shoulders of his two best friends. He’s stunningly handsome, like all Draka, and even though I’m not one to drool over male physiques, his looks take my breath away. Dressed in shimmering silver, skin-tight, with a long sky-blue cape fluttering behind him as the trio approaches, his laughter leading the way, the groom is the very picture of a happy young man. Even a happy young drakensis on his wedding day deserves as much, I think; they have feelings and emotions, and this is an incredibly important day for this young Merarch.

“Honor Guard, atten-shun! Present salute!” barks out the commander of the ten-ghouloon squad, and they stamp to a four-footed attention, and raise their muzzles to the sky in a short howl of welcome. Ghouloons are really used more as decoration now, a status symbol and a remembrance of things past, I think, watching them out of the corner of my eyes. Kawtuh are much more agile, intelligent, and deadly than ghouloons, but from humble beginnings…

The boy steps down gracefully from his perch on his friends’ shoulders, and makes a snappy salute to the commander of the Honor Guard, who returns it. “Welcome to Rohmplace, Merarch Winter, and your party, as well.”

“Thank you.” A fractional bow, and a bright grin.

Legate Tamarindus Rohm and her husband step forward next, and a serf follows them. The young servus is carrying a tray with a decanter of wine, and five goblets, and he comes smoothly to his knees in between the two Draka whose home, Landholding, rather, this is. “Welcome to our Landholding, brothers of the Race. Stay a day, stay a week, stay a decade…our home is yours.” Tamarindus pours the wine slowly, ritually, into the silver goblets, and offers them to the newcomers.

Her husband, his arm linked with one of hers, smiles. “We are honored to have you and your friends as our guests. What is ours is yours, for as long as you stay. Service to the State, brothers mine.”

“Glory to the Race!” the three young Draka bark out, taking the wine and sipping it with relish.

The surrounding group of Draka, about twenty of them, including Muhmis and Alois, respond likewise, with a roar. “Glory to the Race!”

“Come, enter our house and be at ease.” Tamarindus takes the groom’s hand and her husband takes the hand of one of the groom’s friends; the fivesome turns and walks down the rose-petal-covered pathway to the archway entrance of the Rohm’s House. The other Draka break up into smaller groups, laughing and chatting softly amongst themselves. 

As soon as the party of five has entered the house, we serfs rise. I brush peppermint-scented petals from my knees, and pop my knuckles nervously. I’ve never been very comfortable being around this many Draka; it’s like being a canary in a cat convention or something. The shivering’s not just from the cold; some of the nearby Draka aren’t shielding their pheromones very closely. I edge away, slowly, hoping not to be noticed.

“Tantie-ma! Hey, where’re you going? It’s almost time for the bride to arrive…then we’ll start the first feast, the Agreement Feast! It’ll be fun, really! Mama said they give out presents to everyone, too. I wonder what mine’ll be? What…well, do serfs get presents too, I wonder? I’ll have to ask Mama. Where’d she…” Alois is talking a mile a minute, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. This is probably the largest crowd of Draka he’s been around, too, come to think of it.

“Um, Uhmas Alois, I think your mother’s over there…by the tree with all the red on it.” I point to where Gwen’s standing, talking intently with a Draka couple, two males, next to a large tree that looks like an oak on fire. Important to remember to address him according to protocol, around this many Draka, I muse. If one thought I was being disrespectful, the immediate consequences could be painful, to say the least. Embarrassing for Muhmis, too, politically and personally. Guess that means I can’t call Alois ‘Bug Breath’ or ‘Buddy-ro’ right now…

“Oh, okay. Mama…”

“Yes, light of my heart?” Gwen reaches down and tousles his thick fair hair gently. “You’re certainly excited, my sweet.”

“Yeah…uh, I mean, yes, Mother…” He looks up into her face earnestly. “Do serfs get presents at the Agreement Feast? You said everyone does, but I didn’t know if that meant serfs, too. Does Tantie-ma get a present?”

The two Draka men, holding hands, I notice, chuckle together. “He’s a fine young Draka, Planetary Archon Ingolfsson. Concerned for his tantie-ma, that’s always a good sign.” The one who speaks looks me over with a critical eye, smiling. “And this, I take it, is his brooder?”

“Yes, Ulric, this is Erin d’Ingolfsson, my human Prime Councilor as well as my son’s brooder.” Gwen smiles at me, with a hint of pride. “And yes, my love, serfs get presents during the Agreement Feast, too. It’s nice of you to be concerned, though.”

“Oh, I just didn’t want her to be sad if I told her she was going to get a present and then she didn’t, Mama. But then I’d give her one, anyway, since I said she’d get one. When’s the bride arriving? I’m starving!” Alois looks up into the light blue sky, searching for the next aircar.

Ulric speaks up. “I believe she’s due to arrive any moment now, young sir, so hopefully you’ll be able to stave off starving to death that long.”

His lover laughs. “Race Spirit, Ulric, he’s just like you--always hungry!”

The adults break into a wolf-like laughter, and Gwen’s eyes catch mine. I blush, realizing the double meaning, and look down into Alois’ flushed face. He’s still looking up into the azure sky, and obviously hasn’t caught the wordplay. Just as well…he’d ask a million questions, probably, if he had. That boy, I think fondly, is like Peter…always with a question. Make a good scientist.

Thinking of Peter momentarily makes my heart ache, and I look away, over the carefully manicured yards, through the flame-colored trees. Water tinkles merrily in a fountain not far from us, and the sound reminds me of the day I let Peter go, so many years ago, in the waters off Andros Island. Oh, god above, Peter, how I miss you. It never completely goes away; I never thought I’d lose you. You were my best friend in the world, and you died to save a Draka…I swallow, and try to think of something else.

“Darlin’ mine, what’s wrong?” Gwen’s arm, warm even through her dress blacks and my furry coat, slips around my shoulders. “Hmmm?”

“Oh, nothing…just a momentary attack of the blues. I’m fine now, Muhmis. Sorry. Didn’t mean to drift there for a moment.” I straighten under her arm, and try to smile at her. “I’m okay now. Just an old memory.”

“Peter?” Her voice is soft, soothing.

“Yes, Muhmis.” I look back at the fountain, watching the water rise impossibly high into the blue sky as it jets from the nymph’s flutes…it splashes back down, and even the splashes look different here on Mars than they do on Earth. It’s little things like that that really seem odd, that jolt you from a comfortable perspective, I think, and lean against my Muhmis for a second. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“It’s too cold out here for you, anyway. Why don’t you take Alois inside, find him a snack, and then meet us all in the Main Hall in about twenty minutes? The aircar with the rest of the wedding party is due to arrive in 18.36 minutes from just about now.” Gwen leans down and kisses me, her tongue making a line of fire inside my mouth for a long, delicious moment. I shiver, this time with delight, and nod, our lips still touching.

“Your wish, Muhmis. And thanks, I really am cold, even with all this fancy winter clothing…”

She chuckles. “We’ll have to get you some walking blacks, actually. Non-offensive, certainly, but we could scale up a child’s pair for you, I’m sure. These Earth-based fabrics don’t keep out the cold well at all. I’ll order some for you right now.”

“Wow! Thanks, Muhmis.” I grin at her, and then take Alois’ hand. “Come on, Eternally Hungry Young Man, and let’s go find some vittles.”

“All right!” He tugs me along, and we pass through the salmon-colored, carved archway and into the House. “Come on, Tantie-ma!”

**  
The wedding party stands before the archway of wrought gold, framed in the reddish sunlight of a Mars sunset. Bride and groom stand before an alter of marble, with two silver wine goblets before them; Tamarindus Rohm and her husband standing behind the alter, ready to pour out the ceremonial libations. The guests surrounding the foursome are hushed, expectant. Draka usually don’t gather in such groups, I think; they’re pretty solitary kinds of critters, for good reason. But no duels today, and challenges offered will be deferred, out of custom. Not good taste to have dead wedding guests, you know. I smother my impish grin and school my features to the relaxed, but attentive look of a well-trained serf.

Inside my head, the tiny voice that’s always there comments: You’ve gotten so good at being a serf, dahling. Very professional of you. Yeah, right, I answer silently. Out of love for my life, and for the lives of my children, I’ve learned well. Survival instinct. Protective coloration. Camouflage. Is it the makeup of a whore? asks the snide internal commentator. I snarl inwardly, and a couple of Draka shift uneasily, looking back amongst the lines of serfs, wondering where the dissonance is coming from. I blank my face again, but inwardly I lambast the tiny voice: No, goddammit, it’s not the makeup of a whore. I do this to survive, and to help others survive. It’s not because I’m lazy or I enjoy it or it turns me on. I do it so I can somehow influence how humans are treated…and I’m tired of your slandering little…

Great, now I’m having legal discourse within my cranium. Maybe I need a vacation. The wedding party is still going on, and I’ve missed some of the vow-taking. I pick back up on it:

“To you, I pledge my undying loyalty and the loyalty of my family’s name. You are part of me as I am part of you, GGG.” The groom takes the wine-filled goblet in both hands and raises it to his bride’s lips. She sips, slowly, holding his eyes with hers.

After he replaces the goblet on the table, and turns back to her, she takes the other one from Tamarindus, and says, “JJJ, You are part of me as I am of you. Loyal and true may we stay to each other until the end of time.” She offers him the goblet, and he sips from it. The sun glints off the silver, and from the medals on his formal dress uniform. 

She’s dressed as the other Draka women are, in a flowing off-the-shoulder Grecian style gown that reaches to the floor. Hers is a deep blue, which sets off her eyes and hair well, I think. His uniform is utilitarian black, but shiny with leather and bright with service ribbons and rank. A chain hangs about his shoulders, weighted against his broad chest by a wide silver medallion with the Archonal mailed fist upon it. One of Alexis Renston’s aides.

“Witness this union, this furthering of the Race, this joy of love between two Draka,” intone Tamarindus and her husband, and the surrounding Draka murmur and nod. Tamarindus passes one goblet one way and her husband passes the matching one to the other side of the group, and each Draka takes a sip and passes it on. The cups reach the apex of the circle, and liveried servus whisk them away silently.

Tamarindus raises her hands above her head; her bright red hair is limned in the setting sun’s dusky rays as the Martian night quickly falls. Glow globes begin to flicker into existence around us, and I shift slightly on my knees. The Overlords were nice enough to provide pads, since we’d be kneeling for a good while, but chairs would have been nicer, I think. “People, children of the Race, hear me!”

A silence falls over the crowd; I can hear myself breathing. I can hear the soft susurrations of the evening breeze coming up; a child whimpers from where the nursemaids sit, and is hushed quickly. Draka can be the most silent people I’ve ever heard, my mind wonders. Amazing. I watch and wait, looking up into the gathering for Muhmis’ face. Her eyes are on the couple and on the Rohms, who are the official hosts and wedding-directors.

“Hear me. This couple has joined in a union of love, honor, duty and respect. Let no one pull them asunder. Let he or she who attempts to do so be dishonored and shamed. Our glory as a Race and their personal glory will move hand in hand into the future. Let them be blessed with children to be proud of and a love to last the millennia. Hear me. I speak for the Race, of the Race and to the Race. Service to the State!”

“Glory to the Race!” barks back from thirty or so Draka throats, and my heart does a rapid little two step at the intensity. Then laughter and songs begin, and the group begins to break apart, drifting into smaller, more intimate partnerships as the Draka begin to dance. I watch as Gwen is swept along the patio floor by a smiling man in grey; she’s laughing and he whispers something to her again as I look at them.

The serfs, myself included, are given the signal to rise. I do, slowly, and bend my knees a few times experimentally. They still appear to function, I note sardonically, but I hope I don’t have to do too much on my knees later tonight. Perhaps I may not have to do anything at all, I wonder, watching the dancing Overlords. Gwen seems pretty happy with Mr. Congenial, there. Maybe she won’t want to share me with him tonight. That would be nice. Two Draka in bed with a human tends to leave most humans in a daze for quite a long time, and I want to enjoy the vacation consciously.

The Draka children are in a separate patio, with games, and cute genengineered pets, and serfs. Their laughter draws me, and I watch them playing for some time, leaning against the wooden balustrade leading up to the Main House. A servant passes by with champagne, an Earth vintage, no less, and offers me a glass. I accept, and return his smile with one of my own. He winks and passes on down the stairs, serving the chilled glasses left and right. Other servants go through the crowd with hor d’oeurves, and the like. I wave off a few of those trays, sipping the bubbly slowly.

Fireworks light up the darkening sky with glorious rains of gold and silver, red and blue, orange-yellow and green. Flowers, rockets, cascades of color all surround us, and I laugh out loud when I hear the children, Draka and human alike cooing: ooooh, ahhhh… so alike, I think, and so different. I walk further up the steps and sit on a marble bench, leaning back against a wall decorated with a martial frieze. Draka art tends rather toward the martial, I think to myself, and after a few glances at it, decide I’m not in the mood to enjoy the intricately carved details of dismembered Samothracian cyberwarriors falling around the feet of battle-suited Draka. Maybe some other time.

Time…what was I supposed to remember about time? Time and Alice? Oh, yeah, the letter she gave me, and told me not to read until we got to Mars and I had time to sit down for a bit. Well, no time like the present, with Muhmis’ needs being attended to, and Alois leading the pack in a raucous game of tag. I cross my ankles, and, pulling out the slim folded envelope, scented with Alice’s favorite perfume, I open it and begin to read.

Dearest Erin, it says, I hope you’re sitting down and you have some reasonable amount of privacy. (Yeah, right, Alice, like we’ve had a lot of privacy since the Draka Arrived, but never mind…) This isn’t an easy letter to write, and I’ve never been much of a one for writing, anyway. Here it is, love. I want a divorce. (What!? I reread the sentence. Maybe she’s joking?) No joke, silly shelia. I want a divorce, and this is my reason: we’re not the same couple that met and fell in love somehow on Andros Island. You and I have both changed and moved in different directions. I want us to remain friends, darling, and I know we can’t do that and stay married. Not anymore. Please, please try to understand.

I crumple the paper in my nerveless hand, and watch as multitudes of silver and purple flowers float from the sky, with flutterbys chasing amongst them. The fireworks seem so dull, now, and my heart’s on fire. No, it’s freezing, and I can’t stop it. There’s more to the letter, though, so may as well get it over with, I think, and open the paper again, smoothing it on my trouser leg.

…try to understand. You are different. You’ve changed. You’re more like a Draka now than I am, and I know why--the unaging part of you. I don’t mean the above as a slam or as a complement, either. Erin, I loved you and I will always love you, but I can’t be “in love” with you. Things are too different. We don’t see eye to eye on many, many things. You’re away so much, and so wrapped up in what Muhmis needs. I know we all serve her, in fact we live to serve, but you’re closer to her than any of us. 

(Alice, Alice, that doesn’t mean…I haven’t changed so much… or have I? Oh, sweet Jesus.)

You and I, Erin, are two very different people. I need someone who’s around more, who’s more accessible, who’s more like me. Please don’t hate me for this. There’s no one else that I’m in love with at the present, so it’s not that I’m leaving you for someone else. I just need to be on my own, and maybe I’ll be lucky enough to find someone more like me. You’ve known things were going strange between us for quite some time, and I just haven’t had the guts to tell you why.

(But… but…)

I wanted you to read this when you were going to be away for a few weeks. I know I’m as near as your transducer, but PLEASE don’t call me. Think about it, and think about how maybe I’m right about this, darling. Talk about it with Muhmis…I mean, if she orders us to stay together, I will, but otherwise… I need the space. You need the space. I want to remain friends with you, and if we’re going to try for that, we need the divorce. I know it’s a shock, but please…try to understand. You know how much I care for you, and always will, no matter what--Alice.

I carefully fold the letter up and replace it in the envelope, then put it back in my pants’ pocket. Several deep breaths later, and the remnants of the champagne, and the tears are successfully staved off, at least for now. I must maintain a calm front, I tell myself. Wouldn’t do to have the Prime Councilor of Earth/2’s Planetary Archon go screaming off into the dark of a Martian night, now would it? No, that wouldn’t do at all. Must maintain…

How can she…I mean, I’m there as much as I can be, and I helped raise the kids…and she’s got that one life-extension that Gwen promised her, although she hasn’t done it yet. I haven’t changed that much, have I? I know…well, maybe I am changing. I see things in a longer-term perspective. I don’t get as bothered by the little stuff. Maybe that’s why she’s not happy being with me. We’ve both always known that we serve Gwen…that can’t be it. Is she in love with Jennifer? They have more in common, I guess, but Jennifer’s taken her life expansion already. Once the grey hairs started, that decided her. But… I never thought… oh, jeezie petes, I hurt so bad. It’s so cold, and so deep.

Oh, now, be honest with yourself. One of the things you were dreading was Alice’s aging, even after the second lifespan had been activated. You dreaded the thought of watching her grow old while you stayed the same, didn’t you? Now it’s not as big a deal…if you accept what she says she wants. You have felt different, all your life. Now you’re the only unaging human in any of several universes, and you have to deal with it somehow. Better to cut your ties clean…

No, no…Alice, gods above, I trusted her…I trust her? Oh, man. That little ole “ed” on the word just said it all. Honesty sucks. Oh… my chest is turning into an arctic ice floe, and I’m marooned in the middle of it. It’s so hard for me to trust, and once I do, I think it’s forever. Is it? Or has that changed, too? What am I going to do? How can I fix this? I didn’t mean to break it, I didn’t even know consciously until just now that it was broken at all.

“Erin?”

“Gahhh!” I leap several inches off the marble bench, and the Overlord standing next to Gwen chuckles and raises an elegant eyebrow.

“Jumpy, isn’t she? Been riding this pretty pony too hard lately, Gwendolyn?”

Gwen laughs in return, but then looks back sharply at me. Her laugh dies in mid-air, and she smoothly squats down so that we’re face to face. “Erin, mia dolce! What’s wrong?”

“Muhmis, ah… Uhmas… it’s… I… um…” I shift nervously on the cool stone beneath me, aware of the two penetrating sets of drakensis eyes resting upon me.

“Rolf, could you give me a moment with her, please? She’s quite upset about something, and I need to know what. Do you mind?”

The Draka man, clad in the grey of the Diplomatic Directorate, bows toward Gwen. “No, of course I don’t mind, dear. I’ll go check on my two rowdy twins over there in the children’s section, and when you’re ready, give me a call. No hurry.”

I bend over at the waist, covering eyes with hands as custom dictates, and he waves a manicured hand in my general direction. “That’s fine, wench. Let me know, Gwen…”

“I will, Rolf. Give me a few moments with her, and then we’ll head on to my quarters…” Gwen smiles at him, and I feel instantly the heat, the shimmering physical need between them, and I shiver. Her right hand cups my chin, and tips my head back up so she can look in my eyes; leaf green drakensis eyes meet hazel green human ones. “Darlin’, what’s wrong? Tell Muhmis.”

“It’s…” I’m stopped by a hiccup, and a tear trickles down my face. Unable to speak, I simply hand her the letter. She moves to sit next to me, a hand resting across my shoulders as she hugs me close. She reads Alice’s plea in just a few seconds, and then rereads it more slowly.

“Erin, my sweetlin’…” Gwen murmurs, and strokes through my hair with her hand, holding me against the force of the silent sobbing that’s racking me. “Oh, my sweet saafn…”

**  
“I am extremely annoyed with you, Alice,” I say.

She turns pale. I throttle back my pheromones. “Not for what you said, but for how you said it. Sending a letter was cowardly. I thought better of you.”

“I… um, muhmis, I thought it would be easier that way…”

“Easier for you,” I say coldly.

Alice shrinks a little, then straightens her shoulders, although she keeps her eyes politely down. “I am sorry I’ve displeased you, muhmis,” she says.

“I’m not going to sell you,” I say. “Or send you away. Or even,” I go on, “stop taking you to bed, Alice. But you’re not in favor and you won’t be for a while.”

**  
I wake to the thin sunlight that Mars has--the light seems washed out, somehow, lighter than what I’m set to expect from my years on Earth. The covers are tucked securely around me, and I wonder for a moment exactly where I am. Then memory comes tumbling back in, and I remember Gwen talking me into taking a sleeping pill, then holding me until I fell asleep moments later. The pallet I’m on is thick and luxurious, and I enjoy the warmth from the thermal blankets and the silk sheets for a few minutes.

Surprised she didn’t take me with her lover last night, part of my mind wonders. Would’ve been more like her, to try to distract me from the pain. Being with one Draka is distracting; being with two is overwhelming. He looked like a nice enough sort, though. There seems to be two types of Draka--the ones that can handle humans, and ones that prefer not to. Interesting. I’ll have to think about this some more; it could be important.

The hiss of the hatch opening turns my head toward the doorway--even here, Draka are defense-aware, and build each room to be airtight and secure as if it was in space--distracts me from that line of thought, and I blink up into the startled face of two nude serving wenches. “Ah, Sera, is it all right if we…”

The one who’s speaking, a tall, buxom light-blue beauty with iridescent yellow hair, smiles down at me, somewhat condescendingly. Aha, she thinks Gwen kicked me out here last night--an insult for a personal saafn. Hah. I smile back, and get up, wrapping one of the cream-colored silk sheets around me. Looking down for the barest instant, I am surprised, as I always seem to be, by how good I look. I mean, I’m over fifty, and I look, maybe, eighteen. Like hell I was kicked out.

“No, I think I’ll take the breakfast in to Muhmis the Archon and her companion the uhmas. Thanks, though, sweetie.” I put my hand on the handle of the tray, smiling, and watch her eyes. They almost immediately drop to the floor, and a blush creeps up her neck, even more interesting under the odd light blue skin color. Of course, the Draka can breed or genengineer any color they desire, and I figure this one’s a special pretty of Tamarindus’. Oh, well, Gwen can sample her some other time, and I’m sure she will before we leave.

“As you wish, Honored Sera.” She makes a slight hand gesture to the other woman, and they leave silently. I catch one backward glance from Ole Blue, and read a tiny bit of resentment in it. I wink at her as the door dials shut.

Guiding the cart, laden with breakfast--orange juice, English muffins, eggs Benedict, ham, some caviar, bread in a warming cover, coffee and all its fixin’s--I tap on the hatch of Gwen’s bedroom. “Breakfast, Muhmis.”

The hatch shushes open immediately, and Gwen sits up in the oversized bed. Clothes have been strewn everywhere, some in various states of destruction, and the bed sheets are tousled severely. They must have had a grand time, I think, and then their pheromones hit me. Even though I knew they’d be there, from the night before, and from this morning (knowing Gwen’s habits), it’s still like being hit by a Mack truck. I shiver, and feel my body responding.

“Come in, saafn mine. Breakfast in bed, Rolf? Hmm?” She leans down again and French-kisses him. Her thick red hair is unbound; it falls over them like a curtain of mahogany as he rolls her in his arms and nuzzles against her neck, purring loudly.

“Breakfast? Is that what you’re calling it now, Gwen?” Rolf laughs softly. His naked body is one of the most handsome I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty of undressed Draka males. This guy’s amazing. Muscles that ripple as he moves, but not overdone; a deep, rich tan that brings out the startling light blue of his eyes. Long blond hair; last night it was held in a clip of ruby and gold, but today it’s loose, like Gwen’s. Their hair mingles on the pillows, and I watch, fascinated.

“Ahhhh…” Gwen arches her back as he runs fingers delicately down her sides. “Yes, breakfast.” She flips over suddenly, and they tussle in a flurry of movement. She ends up on top again, and laughs delightedly. I’ve never heard her laugh like that around another adult Draka, not even Tamarindus. “Love, I thought you might need a breather…”

“You’ll need a breather when I’m…” Their wolf-like laughter sends shivers up and down my spine, and I shift nervously from foot to foot. Maybe I should have just sent in the serving wenches, and gotten some extra rest…

“Here, now, the food’s getting cold, and the wench is getting nervous, darlin’…” Gwen bounds from the bed and pounces on the floor next to me, smiling broadly down at me. “Can’t have a nervous wench around, can we?” She picks me up, cradling me easily in her arms, and kisses me, long and hard. The she tosses me onto the bed. Rolf catches me expertly, and lays me down.

“Never had a human before, Gwen. But this one looks delightful. Her scent’s nice, too.” He strokes my breasts, softly, precisely, and I wiggle under him, feeling the weight of his body resting partly on me. Oh, my lord…

“Yes, I know. One of the many reasons she’s my favorite.” Still smiling, Gwen brings the tray over to the bed, and breakfast begins…


	30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

I glance away from the holoscreen in front of me, enough to check the time on my watch. I’m still old-fashioned enough to wear one; they’re increasingly rare today. It’s almost time for the hunt to be over, and I should be with Alois to greet his mother when she returns. I tell the program on screen to close, saving my edits of the Archonal Council meeting notes. Time enough to go over the plans--aquaculture, environmental reengineering, global schooling policies, religious groups, economics--with Gwen during the trip back to Earth/2. The transit from Mars to Earth in the Prime Line still takes hours, given the state of the art Draka spacecraft propulsion systems, which we really need to import more to our timeline, and I’ll make a note of--

“Come on!” Alois runs into the room, face animated, hair a-swirl. “They’re almost back, and it was a good hunt! We don’t want to be late! Come on, Tantie-ma!”

“Okay, Tiger. Coming.” I grin at him and disconnect from the programs I’ve been working in. “Where’s your jacket?”

“Oh, I don’t know--I don’t need one! I’m a Draka, remember? You’re the one who needs a jacket, even here in the summer!” He’s waiting by the door, eyes bright with excitement.

“Fetch your jacket, or Muhmis’ll fetch me a smack!”

“Hey, she doesn’t hit you! And I don’t need a jacket. Besides, none of the other kids are wearing any!” He pouts, the elfin face growing sullen.

“Alois, we’ve been through this already. The other kids your age have been born and raised in these conditions; you haven’t. Besides, it’s your Mom’s order, not just mine. Please don’t pout--if you do, and throw a hissy fit over this, we will indeed be late. And I’ll be more than happy to tell Muhmis why we were late. How’s that grab ya?”

“But…”

“Alois…”

A deep sigh. “Okay.” He runs down the marble-floored hallway, silent as Draka are when they run, and reappears in a few seconds with his jacket, trailing it on the floor behind him. “Let’s go!”

“Not until you put the jacket on.”

“Aarrrggghhhh!” The snarl rips from his throat, and I’m instantly aware that this is a Draka boy nearing puberty, and the onset of the drakensis pheromones. His face creases with rage, only momentarily, and then he looks ashamed. Silently he slips the jacket on and follows me down the broad stairway.

Outside, it’s cold. Really cold! I shiver, inside my snow beast-fur-lined jacket, a birthday present from Gwen, and note without seeming to how Alois suddenly finds that wearing a coat in this temperature and atmosphere really isn’t that great a burden. We have these little battles of will, and sometimes I let him win, but usually I do. That’ll change as he grows older; it did with Alexandra and Ariadne. I miss them, as kids. As adults, I still love them--it’s just different. Funny that I love my owner’s children as much as I love my own. The dichotomy there is astounding…but love is blind sometimes, I guess.

My musings are interrupted when we reach the receiving area. A few Draka, the ones who are up and about after a night of partying hard (even by Draka standards), and the serfs of the hunting party, are waiting for the group to come in from the woods surrounding the Rohm House. Bundled warmly, the serfs and I stand out from the Draka, who lounge about in light jackets and some even in shorts. The Draka children, four or five of them including Alois, are wearing their jackets, though, and I wink at my surrogate son. He disdains to return it, and gets into an impromptu wrestling match with another boy his age.

One Draka lets out a whoop, and the others join in as the hunting party emerges from the woods. They’re riding on shambling mammoth-like creatures, and each hunter has a carcass slung across the back of their mount. I spot Gwen in the lead, and see that she’s carrying not one but two snow beasts on the back of her behemoth. Their limp, fur-enveloped forms look like super-sized lions, which is basically what they are genengineered to resemble. Alois’ shrill yelping joins the pack of Draka’s cries, and Muhmis’ head turns to meet his eyes.

Her face is blood-spattered but her eyes are bright with victory and hunting lust. She lets out a shrill, hawk-like cry of her own, and Alois answers, in a higher note. Shivers cascade down my spine as I listen to the hunters approach. Hey, who am I kidding? These people are predators, pure and simple. How can I even entertain the idea that somehow I can have an influence on their behavior toward us humans? We’re prey, just like the dead critters slung over the backs of their riding animals. Jeezie petes. Gwen’s leaf green eyes search the small group and find me, waiting in the background.

**  
Of Wolf and Man—Metallica

Off through the new day’s mist I run/ Out from the new day’s mist I have come  
I hunt/ Therefore I am  
Harvest the land/ Taking of the fallen lamb

Off through the new day’s mist I run  
Out from the new day’s mist I have come  
We shift/ Pulsing with the earth  
Company we keep/ Roaming the land while you sleep

Shape shift Nose to the wind  
Shape shift Feeling I’ve been  
Move swift All senses clean  
Earth’s gift Back to the meaning of life

Bright is the moon high in starlight/ Chill in the air cold as steel tonight  
We shift/ Call of the wild  
Fear in your eyes/ It’s later than you realized

I feel a change/ Back to a better day  
Hair stands on the back of my neck  
In wilderness the preservation of the world  
So seek the wolf in thyself

The words of the song run through my head as I look into Muhmis’ eyes. They’re still wide with hunt-lust and excitement; their leaf-green depths hold a peculiar light. She’d be happiest doing this all the rest of her centuries, I think. Hunting. Killing. Her lips in their characteristic half-smile, she rides closer, and the rank smell of the dead beasts hits me. That, and the metallic stink of fresh blood. The handler-serf takes the reins she tosses to him, and bows; the dead snow beasts are dumped to the ground before the mammoth-like ride is led away. 

Gwen pushes one of the dead animals over with her foot, so that its jaws gape wide and bloody. Dulling blue eyes gaze lifeless into the light blue Martian sky; its fur is spattered with blood and gore. The other hunters gather near, each displaying the results of their day to admiring Draka and nervous servus. I wait to be signaled, knowing better than to move precipitously in this crowd of drakensis, high on blood scent and hunting joy. It makes me shiver, thinking what could happen if…

“My child, and my saafn…what a wonderful day of hunting! The weather was just right, and these two will make lovely rugs or wall-hangings, don’t you think?” Gwen sweeps Alois up in a bear hug, and he chortles with happiness. I step forward to be closer to her, and force myself to smile. She notices.

“This bothers you, doesn’t it, Erin?”

“Ah, no, Muhmis…it just makes me nervous.” I try to grin for real this time, and she reaches out to pull me against her side. I snuggle there, comfortable in her grip, away from the other Draka. “You Draka aren’t controlling your pheromones right now, and you can see the effects…” I nod at some of the servus, who are kneeling nearby, eyes to the ground. They’re shivering. If I wasn’t in Gwen’s presence, I’d be shivering, too.

“Ahai! No, we don’t have to control much when we’re hunting like this…” A deep sigh. “It’s relaxing. Tremendously so. I need that, after dealing with humans for years. Can’t really show my true reactions half the time, or I’d have no staff left at all. Or nearly none,” she amends, kissing me on the top of the head.

“Mama, can I have the jaws, and the claws?” Alois wriggles to get down and inspect the snow beasts. “They’re really cool.”

“Cool? More Earth/2 slang? What have I told you about that, youngling?” Gwen growls softly, enough to let him know she’s correcting him but not angry. He blushes, and shrugs. “You’ll have to start sounding like a Draka, before we send you to Academy.”

“Yes, Mama. Sorry. I want to get down, though, and look at them. Please?”

Grinning, Gwen lets him down and watches with fond amusement as the boy straddles the dead snow beast, measuring the long fangs with his hands. His blond hair hangs down onto his face, masking it, but I know the expression there mirrors the one I’ve seen on his mother’s face. He’s a Draka, no doubt about it. He’s growing up, too. Pity. They become harder to know then.

Muhmis cups my chin with one hand, and picks me up with her free arm. Her kiss is long, deep and strong. “Hunting brings out all sorts of things in me, doesn’t it, wench?”

“Mmmph! Yes, it does!” I stroke a piece of her mahogany hair back from her forehead gently. “How about a bath first?”

“How about a ride while we’re in the bath? Sounds fun to me,” Gwen murmurs into my ear, then kisses me again, hard. “I can think of quite a few things to do in the bath besides get clean…”

“Of course you can…” I return the kiss. “You’re a Draka.”

“Worse than that, pretty pony. I’m a horny Draka.” She settles me on her hip and, after giving directions to two young Draka with knives to give Alois the claws and the fangs from the dead beasts, but not to let him help dismember them, she walks me through the garden paths, kissing me, caressing me. By the time we finally get to the bathing facility, I’m a horny human. Good combination.

**  
The trip back didn’t seem to take as long as usual, but then again, I napped through most of it. Being a horny human with a horny Draka tends to make naps imperative. Alois chattered on for quite some time about his claw collection; I fell asleep somewhere around there. The landing, of course, brought me back to life, and the welcoming committee from the Household.

Alice was among them; she didn’t look at me. I stared at her for a few long moments, then gave up and hugged Rosta and Yannan, my assistants. They were happy to see me, but I could also tell they were worried about the obvious tension between my soon-to-be-ex-wife and myself. Gwen “cut” Alice quite coldly, refusing the ceremonial kiss from serf to Mistress with a curt shake of her head. Muhmis can be extremely cold when she wants to be; I was glad it wasn’t “aimed” at me. I was also glad when we could get past all the little ceremonies and get back to work as usual.

I go over all this in my mind as I idly flip though a volume of Yolande’s poetry. I enjoy it, even though it’s somewhat sad. Maybe that’s why I enjoy it. It speaks to me, somehow. I should work up the nerve to talk with her about it, when she’s here next. She flits back and forth between PrimeLine, Earth/2 and Earth/3 quite a bit, making it hard to catch her in the right sort of mood. Have to work on that…

Gwen walks into the room, and the door sighs shut after her. I look up from the book of Yolande’s poetry that I’ve been rereading, and smile. It’s good to be home again, I think, looking into her clear leaf-green eyes. The room smells of cedar wood smoke and dinner; I had the staff bring up the meals and keep them in a warming unit. Alois is asleep, tucked in and tuckered out. I read to him, as our little custom is, still, and then had a talk about slang. He’ll be more alert to the words now. That’s important, with school in Archona coming up.

“Ah…dinner smells good. And so do you,” Gwen says, perching on the arm of the oversized wing back chair I’m curled up in. She kisses me gently, lingeringly.

“I had them bring dinner up here, and keep it hot for you, Muhmis. I didn’t know how long that meeting you were in this evening would be, and—mmmhh—thought you’d like something to eat when you finished…” I close the book, marking my place.

“Reading more of my mother’s work, hmm? Yes, this volume is my favorite. She wrote this after the Final War. Some of her best work.” Muhmis looks the book over and then puts it down on the side table. A log pops in the fireplace, and I jump a little. A strong arm slips around my shoulders. “Jumpy, aren’t you?”

“A little. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, sweetlin’. How are you feeling, by the way? I’ve been so busy socializing that we haven’t had much time to talk about you and Alice. She knows very clearly how I feel about the situation, I might add. Very clearly indeed.”

I take Muhmis’ hand and lead her over to the oaken table, where our dinner waits. “Let’s eat dinner first, Muhmis. I’m hungry, and I know you are! You always are. Plus, I want to hear more about your new primo amore. He’s quite nice, as far as guys go, with all respect, of course.”

“Rolf? Oh, he’s simply wonderful. I’ve known him for several decades, but we’ve never really connected the way we’ve done this trip. I was pleased, too, that he knew to be gentle with you. That’s a good sign, for me. Here, let me cut the roast before you cut a finger off or something, silly wench.” Chuckling, Gwen takes the carving knife from my hand and slices the meat. Its aroma makes my mouth water. I fill our plates with the other servings—corn, some sort of casserole with vegetables and a delicious cheese sauce, fresh bread, mashed potatoes with gravy. The salads I set out by our places, and wait until Gwen sits down before taking my place. She hands me the plate with roast beef on it first, and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“Go ahead…I’m hungry, and don’t want to deprive you. Take all you want, dolce ragazza. Then I’ll consume the rest,” Muhmis smiles. She pours a measure of sherry into her glass from a crystal decanter, and then offers me some. I shake my head, and pass the plate of carved meat back.

“I’ll stick with water, if you don’t mind.”

“Just water?”

“Well, I had some fruit juice earlier with Alois, but water’s fine for me right now. I’ve had a headache off and on all day, and I think anything alcohol-based would just worsen things. Are you getting serious about Uhmas Rolf, Muhmis?”

“Yes.” She eats, neatly but enormously. Soon, she’s passing her plate to me for refills on the other foods, and attacking her salad with gusto.

“Serious as in…”

“Yes.” Gwen smiles at me. “Oh, don’t be surprised. I’ve been thinking of marriage for some time now. It’s harder for me, since Alois—senior—and I were so close, and I’m so much older than most Draka now, but I think I’ve found my partners.”

“Was that plural?” I almost choke on my water.

She laughs, elfin, at my shock. “Oh, sweet. You’re so…provincial. Ah, gods. No, you’re as cosmopolitan as most humans ever get. You’re just still learning about the Draka, and our customs. Yes, I said ‘partners’, and I mean Rolf and Schalk.”

“You’d marry both of them? How do they feel about it?” I busy myself with capturing a piece of lettuce, feeling my heart pound within me. Oy, vey, gevalt, I have enough trouble keeping up with just Gwen, and as her favorite, I can expect even more strenuous evenings with Gwen plus husbands. I don’t know if I can deal with all that, and no Alice…

“They feel just fine about it. But…” Muhmis sips from her snifter of brandy, eyeing me. “I know you’re upset. Tell me why.”

“I…uh, well…it’s just that…” How do I say this diplomatically? Aw, to hell with diplomacy. “I don’t know if I can keep up with you and two husbands, Muhmis. Physically. You know.”

Her hand reaches out for mine, and caresses it. “Darlin’, I don’t expect you to. Remember, they each have their own favorite saafn; you should be concentrating on getting along with them. We’ll be busy enough with each other for awhile that you won’t have too much to worry about. Plus, you know I’m careful with you. I’ve never overstressed you that way, have I?”

“N-n-no…”

“Then don’t worry, pretty. You’ll still be my favorite saafn. But it will also be a big relief for me to have Draka lovers around on a more regular basis. Rolf’s being transferred to Earth/2 as a liaison officer for Alexis, so politically, even, this is a good thing for all of us. It’ll be all right, Erin. I promise.” 

“Um, okay. It’s just sort of overwhelming. I mean, I thought maybe you liked Rolf as a boyfriend, but nothing as serious as getting married. That’s not something you Draka do lightly…” She looks so happy, I think. I’ve never seen her look so relaxed, or just plain happy. Must be love.

“No, it isn’t. It’s a union of trust, politics, and families. Having taken the reproductive necessities out of the picture, it makes things more on an emotional level for us to have someone to trust at our sides. Or backs, whichever way you want to look at it.” She finishes the snifter of brandy and signals me to pour some coffee for her. “But then, you didn’t take marriage lightly, with Alice. Let’s talk about that.”

“If we have to…” I close my eyes, and wish I could roll back time. But where would I roll it back to? Andros Island? Would I talk myself and Peter out of applying for a job? Or would I go back further?

“Yes, I think we should. You need to. I want you relatively stable, to work as well as you have been for me.” She takes my hand and walks me over to the fireplace, and the soft cushions that wait for us there. “Let’s talk, Erin.”

“Has my work been suffering, Muhmis?” A jolt of real alarm pierces my anguish, and I watch her face carefully.

“No. But I don’t want this to have that effect, dolce. And I know you can’t just literally put it out of your mind, as I can. I know it’s important for you to be able to talk about it. Do you wish to talk with a human, instead? Perhaps Shawonda? Would that be more helpful?”

I curl up next to her, feeling the startling warmth from her drakensis body flow into mine. She smells good, I realize, of dinner, and brandy, and, well, of just Gwen. It’s a comforting scent, even though I know in the back of my mind that she’s probably adjusting her pheromones to relax me. I sigh, deeply, and run my hands through my shoulder-length hair. “No, Gwen. I want to talk with you, no one else. Not even Shawonda.”

“Do you want me to send you and Alice to a marriage counselor?”

“No. It wouldn’t change what’s been written, and said, and thought. It’s too late for that. She doesn’t want to be with me anymore, and part of me doesn’t blame her. I am different, Gwen, different from any other human being in any universe we know of. She’s not comfortable with that, and I can’t make her be. It was just such a…surprise. I mean, I knew there were times we were distant from each other, especially over the last couple of years, but…” A sob interrupts me.

Gwen puts her arms around me and rocks me, purring softly. Murmuring sweet nothings, words comforting, familiar, shared. After a few minutes, she lets go of me long enough to reach for a box of tissues, and hand one to me. Then she pulls me into her lap, and I tuck my head under her chin, arms around her shoulders. “My poor little pretty girl…” I hear pain in her voice, and look up into her face in surprise. Tears glint in her eyes, a rarity.

“I’m so sorry, Erin… I know how badly you hurt. I wish I could fix it; I’m responsible for your care…” She strokes a finger down my face. “But this is something that took me and you both by surprise. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just put up wid me,” I sniffle. Blowing my nose several times helps. “I don’t want this to hurt my work. I’ve tried really hard not to let it. And I’ve tried not to wander around wringing my hands, or looking hang-dog.”

“You haven’t been. Of course, Alois and I know something’s wrong, but you’ve masked it very well in public. We know because we know you so well. And of course I’ll ‘put up with you’. You know that. You’ve been a tremendous help to me, mia dolce, and I will never forget how loyal you’ve been. Plus, I have strong feelings for you. You know that, too.”

“Yes, I do. Vice versa, too.” I rest my head against iron-hard muscles, relishing the contact. “You know that. But besides listening to me, there’s nothing to be done. What’s the procedure for divorcing, under Draka rule?”

“For serfs, it’s pretty simple. Their master or mistress must agree, and usually does, and there’s a public announcement that the two are no longer a couple. Splitting up belongings, investments, that sort of thing is handled by the Serf Courts. Will any of that be a problem for you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “We have that house on the South Pacific island you gave us, but I guess we can either arrange to share use of it, or she can have it outright. I don’t care anymore.” I shiver. “I feel so alone, Gwen. So alone.”

“I know.” She kisses me, softly. I link to her with my transducer, and play a song—one of my favorites…

Running up that Hill—Kate Bush

It doesn’t hurt me, but you want to feel how it feels  
You want to know—know that it doesn’t hurt me  
But you want to hear about the deals I’m making  
You… it’s you and me…  
And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God  
And I’d get him to swap our places  
Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building  
If I only could

You don’t want to hurt me but see how deep the bullet lies  
Unaware I’m tearing you asunder there is thunder in our hearts  
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?  
Tell me we both matter, don’t we?  
And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God  
And I’d get him to swap our places  
Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building  
If I only could

You…it’s you and me…  
It’s you and me…you won’t be unhappy  
Come on baby come on darlin’  
Let me steal this moment from you now  
Come on, angel, come on, come on, darlin’  
Let’s exchange the experience…  
And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God  
And I’d get him to swap our places  
Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building  
With no problems…  
If I only could…

We sit for several minutes in silence, and I can hear her heart beating under my ear. “Will there ever be other humans who are awarded unlimited life spans, Gwen?”

“Perhaps. I can’t say for sure. They have to earn it. It was hard to get yours approved, but it does set a precedent.”

“Oh.” I feel her hands caressing me, becoming more focused as the minutes roll by.

“Muhmis?”

“Hmm?”

“You want?”

Her leaf-green eyes glitter in the soft light from the fireplace. “Yes, I want. I want to please you tonight. Come with me, Erin.” She kisses me again, tongue flickering in and out like a stroke of sensual lightning, and takes both my hands in hers. We stand, and she pulls me close. The embrace turns into an erotic dance, as she leads me to the bedroom, disrobing both of us as we move. “Come to me, my saafn, my love…be with me, and don’t feel alone tonight.”


	31. Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty-One

I yawn, and roll over at the same time. The other side of the bed is empty, as I expected; Gwen rarely sleeps more than four hours or so. The early morning sun weakly colors the room, and I sit up, wrapping the tan-colored silk sheets around myself. It’s cold, I think, but then again, the way the Draka are, they wouldn’t notice this chill at all. I pad softly into the bath, and shower, relishing the heat from the water. I feel relaxed, tired, sort of buzzed. All reactions to being laid by a Homo Drakensis, the tiny voice in my mind whispers. Chemicals.

No, I argue back silently. It’s more than that. Somehow, across the centuries and the universes, across races, Gwen and I have made some sort of connection, and part of my reaction to last night is linked to that. I mean, sex can make you feel great, but if it’s sex and just that, the feeling doesn’t last very long. This is deeper. I don’t completely understand it, I’ll admit that. How can I be in love with someone who enslaves me? Despite that, I know what my feelings are for Gwen, and that they’re reciprocated. Odd how life is, sometimes.

I wrap myself up in an oversized terrycloth bathrobe and tiptoe out of the bath. A cloud of steam precedes me, and dissipates rapidly in the cool morning air. I walk through the living chamber, picking up clothes that had been discarded in the heat of the moment last night, folding them as I walk. At least she didn’t shred my clothes like she does sometimes when she gets, well, excited, I grin to myself. This sweater’s a favorite of mine.

As I walk by the oak-paneled room that serves as Gwen’s office, I pause briefly. I thought I heard something, I think to myself, and peek around the corner of the half-open door. Inside, I see Rolf, head bent intently to his task, sorting rapidly through papers on Gwen’s desk. That’s odd, I think. Those are her private journal notes he’s looking at. She rarely lets anyone see them. Hmm. I shouldn’t interfere, though; I quickly move past the door and hum out loud, so that he knows I’m out here. Surprised Draka are often unhappy Draka, and it’s not safe to be around unhappy Draka.

He pops out of the room like he’s been shot out of a cannon’s mouth. “Erin…you’re up early this morning.”

I bow, and wait for his hand signal to stand up straight again. Schalk DeLange doesn’t insist on this type of protocol from me in private, and neither does Gwen; Rolf is new, and needs to be treated carefully. His hand flicks upward, and I rise, meeting his eyes as I do so. They shock me.

His voice is carefully controlled, but his eyes are like drills, piercing me with a cold blue stare. The smile on his face looks pasted on, too, I realize, and shiver. “Yes, Uhmas Rolf, I woke up and decided to take a shower. How are you today, Uhmas?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Showering, eh?” He moves closer, taking me into his arms and kissing me firmly. “You certainly have a lovely scent, wench of my soon-to-be-wife’s…” His strength terrifies me, especially in view of the way he just looked at me a moment ago.

“Uh…Uhmas, mmphh…please,” I whisper, moving my mouth away from his with a turn of my head. “Please, I’m, well, tired…from last night, and Muhmis…”

“True, you humans don’t have the stamina we Draka have…maybe later today, then?” He lets me go, and I nod rapidly. Sure, sure, anything you say, boss-man. Just let me out of here! He kisses me again, and then walks from the room, leaving me shaken.

Once I know he’s gone, I go into Muhmis’ office and look at the papers on her desk. Most are basically bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo needing her signature; amazing how much of the Draka empire still runs on paper and signatures. But under those papers are her notes from the last strategy planning session she and the other Planetary Archons had here. Those are for her private journals, I know; she has me transcribe them usually once a week into a secured database. Interesting back-room dealings, political alliances and sometimes plots that shouldn’t see the light of day; she trusts me implicitly with them, since she knows how loyal I am to her, and her alone.

He’s been through them; if there’s one thing Gwen is, she’s methodical. All these pages should be in date order; two are out of sync with the rest. Both deal with resentments about Alexis Renston, voiced by other Planetary Archons during a particularly heated meeting a week ago. Gwen had smoothed things over but the tension’s still there, and building. They resent having to answer to him and the Archonal Council for everything they do strategically; the centralized Draka Archonate is starting to crack at the seams as more universes are opened for exploration and colonization.

Hell. He shouldn’t be reading her private stuff, even if he’s planning on marrying her. It’s like stealing a read or two inside someone’s diary. It’s private; it’s hers. And it’s politically explosive stuff; even little ole me knows that much. Hmmm…isn’t he one of Alexis’ aides? Or was? Now he’s a liaison officer from the Archonate to here, Earth/2. Oh, hellfire. This isn’t good at all. 

I straighten the papers, making a note of which ones were out of order and where they were on her desk, and leave the room, my mind awhirl. How do I tell her? I mean, she’s in love with the guy, for God’s sake. And, too, she knows I have worries about her marriage to Rolf and Schalk. She’d be likely to think I was just being jealous, or insecure, or something like that… maybe she asked him to look at them. No, I don’t think so, somehow. She’s never shown her notes to anyone, at least not to my knowledge. No one but me. Hell.

I get dressed and wander down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. I’m still trying to think of a reason that would justify him digging through her papers, and I can’t come up with one that holds water for more than a minute or so. Who should I talk with about this? I’m not sure I should go straight to Gwen on this one, I think to myself. The orange juice puts some life back in me, and the English muffins with raspberry jelly put some spring into my step. I thank the serving wench who brought me my morning vittles, and she blushes brightly before scampering back into the kitchen. Pretty young thing, I think. Maybe I should ask her out sometime. I smile at myself—still noticing the pretty women, even though you’re getting up there in years, you old she-goat, I fuss silently to myself. Yep. Always had an eye for the ladies.

Checking in at my office, I find a rose and a note from Gwen on my desk. “Take the rest of the day off, my pretty pony. Gwen.” I grin, and feel the heat rising in my face as the blush spreads. Yannan and Rosta, the two serfs Tamarindus gave Gwen for Alice and my wedding, grin back at me unrepentantly. Then they busy themselves in the ever-present paperwork and information gathering that my office needs to support Gwen’s work here on Earth/2. My growl at them is half-hearted, and they know it. Their tanned faces grin even more widely as I leave, and I hear Yannan whisper to Rosta:

“Must have been damn impressive last night…”

I chuckle, and close the door softly behind me. Yes, it was damn impressive. Gwen can be so… gentle, and erotic, and powerful, all at the same time. I guess out of all the Draka to be owned by, I’m damn lucky it’s her. Stopping by the library, I pick up a copy of Hamlet, and wander out into the shady garden to my favorite reading spot. Soon, I’m lost in Denmark, surrounded by murder and intrigue… without resolving the questions in my mind about Rolf and what he was doing this morning.

**  
“Erin?” Schalk DeLange stands over me. The book I was reading has fallen into my lap, and I start from my sleep, rubbing at my eyes.

He chuckles and sits down next to me on the marble bench. “Sleepy head. Are you awake now? I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“Yes, Uhmas Schalk.” I yawn. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep…”

“I hear you and Gwen had a particularly nice evening…you probably need the sleep! But this is serious. Fully conscious?” His smile vanishes, replaced by a pensive look.

“Yes, sir.” I sit up straight, and close the book, marking my place with a cloth bookmark Alois had made me a few weeks ago. Dragons on it, of course.

“I was monitoring the security of the Household this morning, and noticed an odd glitch. The recorders for your Muhmis’ office went off line for 38.95 seconds. Then they powered back up. Did she authorize that? Do you know?”

“No, Uhmas. I don’t know that she did. She wasn’t in her office this morning when I got up, but…” I pause, unsure of how to go on.

“What?” His eyes are looking directly into mine, and his voice has grown quiet, and serious. “Who was in her office this morning around 0720?”

I whisper: “Uhmas Rolf was.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he blinks several times. I’ve learned that both are signals of surprise from a Draka, rarely shown. “Rolf? What was he doing?”

“Please, sir, I don’t know if I should…”

“Tell. Me.” His voice has the flat crack of command in it, and I stiffen, sitting next to him on the bench. Overhead, the wind moves softly through the overarching branches, making a soft whisper of sound in the background. Birds—barn swallows, some distant portion of my mind catalogues—twitter overhead in the warm wind. The smell of new-mown grass and magnolias come to me, and I inhale deeply before answering his command. It calms me.

“Uhmas Schalk, Uhmas Rolf was in her office, at her desk. I saw him briefly as I walked by, from the bath. He was going through papers on her desk. He was very surprised to see me. He thought about bedding me, but I begged off, saying I was tired from last night. He was very tense. He left, and then…”

“Go on,” Schalk says softly, cupping my chin in a gentle, steel-strong grip. “Go on, Erin. Tell me.”

“He…I…I went into her office, and looked to see what he had been looking at. He had been going through her private journal notes, the ones I haven’t transcribed yet. Two were out of order. Here, I’ll send them to you,” I say, my voice shaking slightly. I order my transducer to send copies of the two pages to his transducer, encrypted with the highest level security I’m allowed to have. He waits a moment, translating, digesting the information, and then nods.

“I put the papers back in order, and left her office. I’ve been trying to think of ways to tell her, or you, about this, but I hadn’t come up with any by the time I fell asleep out here. Oh, jeezie petes, it’s five o’clock already? Man, I didn’t realize how long I’ve been out here…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve had my eye on you this afternoon. I knew Gwen had given you the day off. I just wondered why you were being so asocial. That’s not like you.”

“I’m worried.”

Schalk’s face creases into a brief smile. “So am I, Erin. So am I.”

“What should I do, Uhmas Schalk?” I take his hand and hold it between mine, and look up into his eyes. “How should I tell Muhmis? Doesn’t she need to know?”

“Well, yes. But I think perhaps both of us should tell her. There have been some other things going on today that are very…worrisome, and … things are complicated. Tell you what—let’s meet with her, you and I, at six. I’ll ask her for a meeting in the Security Office. Be there, Erin. A-Kay?”

“Yes, sir.” My face shows the nervousness my stomach feels. “This could be very…”

“Difficult. Yes. I know, believe me. But we are loyal to Gwen, above all. Remember that always, pretty wench. You understand. Yes?” He squeezes my hand gently, and then strokes my face with a long tanned finger. “I know you do. Six, it is, then.”

He stands, and stretches. That’s another sign of tension in a Draka, I think silently to myself. I wonder what else has been going on? Should I ask? Or not?

I guess my face asks for me, since Schalk leans down and quietly, very quietly, whispers in my ear: “We’ve lost contact with one of the exploration probes to Neptune/2. We’re investigating right now. Things could get very hot, very rapidly. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Understand?”

I nod. “The Samos?” My whisper matches his.

“Possibly, but they’re having some problems of their own, from what we’ve been able to decode. Odd thing, but they’ve lost contact with one of their settlements, a small one, outside the Oort band. It was a small scientific team we allowed through for research, and as a good faith measure, and now they can’t get in touch with the team. They’ve been trying for two days now.”

“But would we have…I mean, you have…well, you know…” I stumble to a halt. Jeeze, I just included myself with the Draka, I think. I didn’t really think about how odd that was until after I said it. Man. 

Schalk stands again, tall, limned against the rosy sunset. “No, we haven’t interfered with them. No Draka from Earth/2, that is. And now, this thing with Rolf…ah, well. Trouble never comes empty-handed. Six, Erin, in the Security Office. Right?”

“Yes, Uhmas Schalk.” I stand, too, and gingerly stretch muscles grown stiff from sitting too long. “I’ll grab a bite to eat, and meet you and Muhmis there. Is that all right?”

“That’s fine. I have something else I need to check up on, but I’ll be there at 6…” He gives me a friendly peck on the lips, and a pat on the fanny, and saunters off through the garden. I watch him leave, and then take my book back to the library. From there, I head to the kitchen, where I fend off the cooks’ attempts to load me down with a three-course dinner. I manage to wangle a ham and cheese sandwich out of them, and nibble on it listlessly as I walk through the house towards the Security Office. I don’t have much of an appetite, but if I don’t eat something, I’ll end up with a headache.

I sit outside the Security Office, and check the time on my watch. It’s almost 5:45; they should be arriving here soon, I think. Just as I think that, Gwen appears at the end of the corridor, clad in military blacks and her face set in a cool, detached mood. Her braid is tightly bound and hangs over one shoulder like a waterfall of mahogany along the shimmering surface of her uniform. Tiny red Draka, ruby and gold, glint at her collar. Her leaf-green eyes are cold, and direct.

“Erin? Let’s go in. I don’t have much time for this meeting Schalk has called me for.” She walks into the office, and I follow, nervously.

She sits down in one of the tall-backed leather chairs and steeples her fingers. “Now, tell me, Erin, what’s this all about?”

I pace nervously by the holographic monitors. They’re tuned in to various places around the estate: I see the nursery, a barn where horses nicker softly as night settles down, the school building, rooms in the Household itself. The screens change constantly, scanning faster than I can watch comfortably. As discomfiting as watching the screens is, though, I’d rather watch them than face Gwen. “Um, ah, Muhmis, I think it would be best if we waited for Uhmas Schalk…”

She cuts me off coldly. “I didn’t ask you what you thought. I asked you what this is about. I don’t have a lot of time for games right now. In fact, I really don’t have time for this meeting. Some other… things… are going on, and I need to be involved in them, not some Household security affair.”

I stop pacing, knowing that it bothers her, and sit down across the way from her. I fight the urge to curl up in a defensive ball, and force my feet flat on the floor. The silence is deafening. “Um…Muhmis…”

“Erin, Erin,” Gwen whispers, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples briefly with her fingers. “I am not in the mood for this. Tell me, wench. That’s an order.”

Great. Schalk’s not here yet, and I have to tell her that her lover’s been going through her stuff? Hell’s bells. I clear my throat, sit up straight, open my mouth, and … nothing comes out. I blink nervously, grin, and try again. “Well, Muhmis, it’s like this… I mean, it may be nothing at all, but then again, it could be pretty serious… You can probably clear it all up in a moment or two, and Uhmas Schalk and I will feel embarrassed for being worried and all…”

“You’re usually ever so much better at getting to the point of the matter. Please try to do so now. My patience is wearing thin.” She puts her hands on the arms of the chair, and looks directly at me. I have seen that look very rarely, personally, and it puts a chill into the marrow of my bones.

“This morning, I surprised Uhmas Rolf in your office. He was going through your personal papers. He had pulled two of them out, notes from a meeting about political tensions and how they’re growing between the Planetary Archons and the Archon himself. Uhmas Rolf was very nervous and intense. He was very surprised I was still there.” I stop, gauging how Gwen’s accepting this.

Her leaf-green eyes have narrowed, and a frown has appeared on her aquiline, tanned face. One eyebrow coolly rises, and she makes a small hand gesture for me to go on.

“Um…well, then…Uhmas Schalk told me there was a security anomaly in your office this morning, when Uhmas Rolf was there. He wanted to know if you authorized the down-time for the sensors. It was several seconds’ worth of off-line time. I said I didn’t know; he wanted to know if anyone was in your office at the time the system was put off-line. I told him about Uhmas Rolf.”

“And?”

By this time, I’ve crossed my arms defensively and I’m shivering. Her voice is cold, far colder than I’ve ever heard it. Oh, jeezie petes, what have I gotten into? Where the blazes is Schalk DeLange? “Um, and, well…he said we needed to tell you. The two of us, that is, Uhmas Schalk and me. Um, I. Ah, whatever. You know what I mean. He also told me a little about some of the weird things going on with the two outposts, too, so I know you’re busy.”

“Busy is an understatement.” Her eyes are spearing me, driving me back into the chair. “So you’ve decided that Rolf is spying on me? Is that it?”

“Umm…no. I haven’t decided anything, Muhmis. I just thought you should know…”

“There again, making rather an assumption, aren’t you?” Her voice cuts like a knife. “He’s one of my betrothed, and I trust him. Completely. Whatever he was doing, he must have had a good reason.”

“But, Muhmis, we’re just concerned that…”

“We? We? All I see right now is you: one human wench who may have forgotten her place. That’s what I see. Last night was delightful. You know how strong my feelings are for you. But you will never take the place of a brother or sister of the Race, Erin. You also know that. Or you should, by now.” Gwen stands, glowering at me. Her deep, bass growl makes the hair stand up on my neck and arms, and I shrink backwards. “You’re a human. Remember that. Always.”

“Yes, Muhmis,” I manage to whisper.

“I’ve wasted enough time over this silliness. I don’t know why Schalk hasn’t shown up; he’s several minutes late. And things are building to a crisis, elsewhere. But I will tell you one last thing, wench. Listen, and remember. I won’t say it again. You’re mine, my wench, to do with as I please. If I order every male on this Landholding to mount you, you’ll accept and obey. Clear?”

I swallow, or try to, in a mouth gone dry as the Sahara. “Yes, Muhmis.”

“I know you’ve been nervous about this marriage. Perhaps you worry that you’ll lose your place as my favorite, or my Prime Councilor. That won’t happen, unless another little incident like this occurs. Then, you may be in for a shock. Let’s keep that from happening. Remember your place. Am I making myself perfectly clear? You will not attempt to come between me and a lover again. Ever.”

“But…but…”

“Ever!” Her voice is a husky roar that almost knocks me out of the chair. My stomach lurches, protesting the ham and cheese sandwich most vehemently.

“I hear and obey, Muhmis,” I say quietly, despite the chattering of my teeth. Her hair is beginning to bristle, and the whites all around her eyes are showing. This is danger, girl, the innermost part of me whimpers. Major, big-time, bad shit. Duck and cover, didi mau!

“Good.” With that, she turns on her heel and stalks from the room. The security vid screens keep scanning, and a silence, broken only by my sobs, settles over the office.

**  
Moments later, Schalk runs into the room. “Hell’s hammers, Erin. Sorry I’m late. Has she already been here?”

“Y-y-yes…” I hide my face, tears still running down my cheeks.

“Shit. Sorry. It was unavoidable. Um, wait one…” I look up, and he’s staring at something his transducer must be showing him. He gasps audibly. “Wotan’s balls…”

“Wha—” Just then, the security alarms go off in my head. I know I’m supposed to be at Muhmis’ side as soon as humanly possible after the alarm has sounded. This one’s not a drill, I bet, and race down the hallway in the wake of Schalk DeLange, who’s sprinting ahead, far faster than I could ever hope to keep up with. I lose sight of him as I stop in my office to check and make sure everyone’s going to the shelters. It’s empty; a steaming cup of coffee waits patiently on a desk for an owner who should be, by now, several floors underground.

I run from there to the Household Command Center. Two Draka stand guard at the door, replacing the usual human Space Force personnel. The Draka have activated their combat armor, and it shifts oddly on their perfectly sculpted forms like a living thing. They glance at me, pause, and then let me pass. I quietly slip into the room, where Draka and human alike recline on couches, processing data, preparing the Landholding for any possible attack. Another group gathers around a chest-high hologram of the solar system, discussing something in quiet but clipped tones. Gwen’s with them, her eyes intent on the hologram; I’m not sure if she knows I’m by her left side, behind her, until she flicks her eyes over me.

“Access the web, Erin, and contact the Samothracian ambassador here on the planet.”

I bow my head, and lose myself in the intricate weavings of the global information system. Glyphs and symbols marking my way flash by inside my head, in a virtual world of data and linkage points. I approach the Samothracian ambassador’s link point, and am warned off by hideous-looking security avatars. “Muhmis,” I hear myself say, as from a great distance, “I can’t get access. They’ve gone code red, too.”

“Damn them.” Gwen is suddenly there—her avatar is, in my head—and she blasts a message at the security programs, demanding access. They fade, but do not disappear. She blasts them again, sending the message with enough force to fry a human’s mind, if they’re on the receiving end. I hope no one is. They can replace the machine, I think; humans are more precious. I hope.

Abruptly, we’re through. The security programs fade away, and then we’re in a tastefully decorated office. The ambassador’s aide greets us coolly. “Planetary Archon Ingolfsson. Prime Councilor.”

“We don’t have time for the bullshit, Thompson. I need access to the Ambassador. It’s not us attacking. And we know it’s not you. I need to talk with Brewington. Now.”

“Just a moment, please,” the aide’s web representative says smoothly. “I’ll check to see if she’ll receive you.” He blinks out of existence, replaced by a montage of scenes from Samothrace. Great. A travel video, and the world’s falling to hell around our ears. Just lovely.

Grace Brewington appears. “Archon Ingolfsson. What in the name of all that’s holy is going on?”

“I wish I knew, Brewington. I don’t. That’s why we need to work together on this. Call off your wardogs, and I’ll call off mine. Otherwise, things will proceed to a place we neither of us truly wants to visit.” Gwen’s voice is cold.

“But…” The Samothracian woman’s avatar pauses, considering. “All right, we do it simultaneously. From my mark, three…two…one…now.”

The security code level in my peripheral vision goes from red to dark orange. The two planetary leaders stare at each other in the virtual world we’ve all agreed upon, and finally Gwen smiles. “Thank you. I knew you were a reasonable human.”

“I hoped you had a shred of honor, Draka.” Brewington’s voice is cool, but she does manage to smile briefly. “Now what in the world is going on?”

“We lost contact with our Neptune/2 outpost at 0912 this morning, standard time. You lost contact with your scientific research post in the Oort around the same time. We never regained contact. Neither did you. And now two of our ships have been fired upon, with some type of energy pulse weapon. One ship was destroyed, with all hands; the other is limping back to base near Titan. You’ve lost the ship you sent out to check on your scientists, with all hands. Same damn weapon system. Whatever’s firing it is cloaked. We haven’t been able to approximate a position, even based on following the firing lines.”

I wince, mentally. The ship we lost with all hands was one of the newest Explorer class frigates. 45 personnel aboard, human and Draka mixed. Thank God that neither Patrick nor Alexandra was on it; they’re still in training over Earth/1. I hope, I conclude. I hope that’s where they are. The other ship was a supply vessel—huge and cumbersome looking, but incredibly graceful in spaceflight. 28 souls on board; over half dead from explosive decompression, I think. Damn rough way to go.

“Well, if you’re sure it’s not a renegade Draka, and we know it’s not one of ours… so who does that leave?” Brewington shows a brief schematic to us, and I download it for further processing. It shows the location, give or take some security measures, of every Samo ship in the Earth/2 universe. Gwen acknowledges it, and sends a similar message to me, instructing me to transmit it to the Samothracian ambassador’s aide, who has reappeared. His avatar looks abashed; I bet he got an electronic reaming out for his attitude a few moments ago, I think, with a smirk.

New information flows across my consciousness, and I relay it instantaneously to Muhmis. The ship that was limping back to port never made it; it just blew apart into component bits and pieces as an energy pulse slammed into it from behind. No survivors. That makes 73 dead humans and Draka, in the space of one day. Gwen’s face doesn’t change. The Samothracian ambassador looks somewhat shocked, but then covers it up.

“It’s something quite powerful, whatever the source. We’ll find out what the seventh hell it is, I guarantee you.” Gwen sends commands, routed through me, to various Draka spacecraft. They begin to move toward the area that’s speckled with the debris of the supply ship, on high alert. Scanning desperately, they search the area for an anomalous heat signature, anything that might lead them to the attacking ship.

I feel, again, from a great distance, someone laying me on a couch, and putting a transducer band across my forehead; that lessens the wear and tear on the implanted one, and also increases the power and connectivity of what I can do. I feel completely detached from my physical body, and wish, for a fleeting moment, that Peter was here to share the feeling with me. I begin receiving reports from military commanders, Space Force captains, Earth/1 Draka Expeditionary Force Ship commanders who are transiting the mole hole as they send information to me. Soon the area of space near this Earth will be bristling with high powered, deadly DEFS spacecraft, and I immediately delegate organizing them to the highest-ranking Draka commander in the linkage.

Moments go by without Gwen accessing my transducer directly; instead, I can see her organizing a Samothracian-Draka defense line outside Jupiter’s gravity well. I can’t believe it, I think to myself, but the Draka and the Samos are actually scared enough to work together. Amazing. The deluge of information and requests covers me, and I begin sorting through them, a human telephone exchange.

“We can’t hold them, Archon,” the captain of the DEFS Raptor-7 calls out. His voice is calm, but there’s a terrible strain in his eyes. “Everything we’ve fired at them has resulted in absolutely no effect. The only time we’ve inflicted any damage on them…the Starhawk interceptor from my ship rammed into one of their spacecraft. We didn’t even know it was there…” His transmission is breaking up as we listen, and then the screen blanks out in a field of electronic noise.

Suddenly, there’s a pause. Everyone, Draka and Samo alike, stops momentarily, as cold, alien tendrils of thought seem to trickle over our minds. Prey/food/consume…target/hit/kill…the images come through roughly at first. Then, shockingly, I see the blank-eyed face of the Draka Captain of the Explorer-class ship, the DEFS Avocet. Merarch Adams, I think. But…blood and brain matter is dripping from the woman’s nose. No wonder her eyes are blank, I realize; she’s dead. But her transducer’s still functioning…

Prey! You will die, soon. We come. We will take you. Tasty, sweet blood. We come. Prepare to die, weakling races. We hunger. The words come out in her soprano voice, still hauntingly lovely, but chilling to the bone. The menace behind the words is unmistakable. So is the alien tone. My jaw drops open. Something that can kick the Draka’s butt? It’s finally happened. Oh, my god…

“Shut down the link! Shut it down, gods be damned!” Gwen cries out, suddenly gripping her head in her hands. The other Draka are apparently experiencing the same surge of agony. I come to myself, lying on the couch, transducer band in my hands. My head hurts; abrupt departure from the Web does that. I watch in horror as one young Draka, a Decurion in the DEFS, spasms uncontrollably on his couch, limbs jolting outward in pain. Blood seeps from eyes, nose, ears… a sudden, sharper spasm, and he slumps, boneless, on the leather.

One of the nearby computers beeps for attention…we turn as a group from the dead Decurion to the holographic monitor. On it, we can see video of the Samothracian ambassador’s office. A young man sprawls across the carpet, his back arching impossibly high in a seizure. Medical personnel are trying to restrain him without success. The Ambassador approaches the camera, and holds up a paper pad with writing on it. “We’ve lost audio, and accessing the Web is now deadly, apparently. Can you read this?”

Gwen strides over to the screen, and nods, emphatically. I hand her a notebook, and she writes on it hurriedly. “We acknowledge your transmission. Wait one; we’ll send over a team with audio equipment. We’ve had casualties from the surge on the Web, as well. Stay off the Web. Go to your highest alert status; prepare for evacuation.”

“Evacuate? Where will we go, Muhmis?” I can’t take my eyes off the dead Decurion. He was a nice sort; always polite, good chess player. I can’t remember his name, and that upsets me terribly. He’s dead, and I can’t remember his name.

“Through a mole hole. We have contingency plans already in place. Here, Erin, let’s try linking our transducers. Be prepared to pull out if you feel anything odd, anything at all. Understand me?” 

I nod. Suddenly Gwen’s voice is in my head. Everything seems all right… apparently it’s just the Web that’s deadly right now. Must have accessed it through her transducer. Are you all right, Erin?

I nod again, and reach out to hug her. Surprised, she hesitates for a brief second or two, but then folds me into her comforting, strong, familiar embrace. I’ll keep you safe, Erin. You and the children. A mental image of a long kiss, tender and firm, and then she’s gone from my head. I see other Draka look momentarily blank, and then hasten to obey her calm, cool orders. The evacuation plans get under way; I soon have more responsibilities than I can comfortably handle, but I manage. All around the globe, humans and Draka are being ordered to take shelter in preplanned areas; there is some hysteria among the humans, but a cold, tremendous anger surges from the Draka who respond.

Samothracian and Draka alike begin to exit via the moleholes established now for decades; to other universes, to other planets. I watch the ships blink out of existence, and wonder what will happen next. Will the things, the aliens, arrive soon? How can we escape? Can they follow us? What about all the billions left here? The research stations? The terraformers on Mars? In the midst of all this, Alois finds me, his eyes huge with excitement.

I hug him to me, hiding him momentarily from the sight of the Decurion’s body being removed from the Command Center. Death is all around us; I can’t hide him from it forever, but I can right now. He’s jittery with anxiety and energy; I put him to work organizing the other Household children and their menagerie of pets for transport. Gwen briefly stops what she’s doing to kiss him on the top of the head, and then she’s ordering me, Alois, and the Household children on board a ship, leaving almost immediately. I see that the children are on board safely, and then wangle my way back down to the ground, pleading with my security clearance. I watch the ship take off silently, and vanish into the night sky.

I’ll stay here, with Gwen, or wherever she goes. I’ll take my chances that way. More ships leave, heading for moleholes around the planet. I watch, unable to look away, as each ship slips away with its load of hope and reason. Gwen is there, suddenly, a strong, muscled arm around my waist. I lean against her, relishing the warmth from her body in the darkness of the night. The question of Rolf’s actions still lingers, but seems a tiny thing in comparison to what’s happened in the last few hours. I’m tired, I think. Very, very tired. 

A ship hovers nearby, and a floater approaches, taking us up into the waiting maw of the Draka WarBird transport craft. As the hatch dials shut behind us, I have a last glimpse of the world I’ve known all my life. The household is still lit up, but empty. The village is dark, all the inhabitants having been ushered underground into sealed survival habitats. We lift, like the wind; the escape from Earth begins…


	32. Epilogue

Epilogue

I disconnect from the Earth/1 Web and blink my eyes. I’m damn tired, but I think I’ve gotten all the kinks out of the snarl that greeted me this morning. The Space Force logistics group was prepared for a one-universe war, not a multi-universe one. It was FUBAR, all right. Now, I hope, as I get up off the leather couch and stretch, it’s less so. 

Accepting the juice that my aide’s offering me, I gulp it down thirstily. The orange juice must be fresh-squeezed, with all the little pulp bits in it; nothing but the best for Archonal staffers. I used to feel sort of guilty about it, but now that my butt’s been worked about completely off, I don’t mind these perks in the least. The last three days, around the clock, have been horrendous, both physically in terms of work, and mentally, in terms of all that’s happened.

“How are you feeling, Sera Erin?” Yannan’s haggard face, usually so perky and bright-eyed, shocks me. I wonder if I look that bad, I think to myself, as I force a smile. I reach over and stroke a finger down his cheek.

“Fine. Fine and dandy. How ‘bout you?”

He laughs quietly. “Fine, of course.”

Taking me by the elbow, he steers me out of the command and control center and down a corridor in the Archonal Palace. This place has hundreds of corridors, rooms, and windows… “Is it true, Sera?”

“Is what true, darlin’?” I look him steadily in the eyes.

Yannan takes a deep breath. “That…those things…” He sighs. “I read some of the reports, only because it’s my job to assist you. But some of them…”

“We’re up against the wall, Yannan. These bugs are bad-assed motherfu—um, they’re really bad. And yes, the Overlords have had losses. Bad ones. That’s not secret.” I smile at his confusion over my choice of words. He’s not used to American cussing. I guess I should have picked Glitch or something to use instead.

“But…but…how can it be? I mean, the Overlords are…I thought they were…you know, invincible. No better predator for the Universe…and now…” His voice shakes.

I bite back the sarcastic comments I was about to make, realizing that he’s been born and bred, literally, believing that the Draka would always be on top, always be around to protect him. His world’s turned upside down, I think. Be gentle with the boy. “Yannan, it’s complicated. Yes, the Overlords are very powerful. But this is a new threat, and we’re still learning how to deal with it. They’ll overcome it in the end, I’m sure.”

“Really?” His eyes plead for some assurance.

I impulsively reach out and hug him close. “Yes, darlin’…yes.” I hope. I surely hope so, I think, as he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. I can feel him shivering, and inside, I’m shaking, too. Never thought it would come to this, where I’d be on the same side completely as the people who enslaved my planet…and me… Better a slave than a snack, though. Be practical.

He turns his head and begins nibbling on my earlobe. “Sera Erin…”

For a change, the idea of bedding a man doesn’t make me yawn. “Come on. I know a place we can be together and not be a public frisky spectacle, you horny little devil…” I take him by the hand and lead him down the hallway, grinning. Get our minds off the current bad news, and relax tense muscles, I think. Plus, he’s a friend, and fun in bed. He returns my grin as we enter an oak-paneled library.

**  
“Gods above…you’ve been learning a thing or two from Muhmis, haven’t you?” He sighs, and stretches out full-length along the couch. I smirk and stand up.

“Oh, a little bit here and there. You didn’t seem to mind!”

Yannan smiles. “You’re usually not so…assertive. Not that I minded, at all.”

I toss him a box of tissues. “Be civilized, and let’s clean up a bit. All the Overlords, anyway, will know what we’ve been up to, but I’m sure they’ve been doing a fair share of it themselves.” Finishing my own little cleaning operation, I jump back into my briefs and pants; I’ve got my bra on when the door opens.

Seeing Alexis and Gwen enter, both Yannan and I drop to our knees, bowing low. With the added tensions of the war, it’s not wise to forget protocol. I saw a serf get both her arms broken by an annoyed Centurion the other day, simply because she bumped into him. They’ve become more aware of their personal space, and I think the boundaries have expanded. I know their nerves are on edge, too.

I can’t help but blush, though, when I hear Alexis chuckle. “Look what we have here…a naked pretty buck and a partially-clothed wench. Whatever could they have been doing, Gwen?”

“That’s obvious, from their scents. Mmmm…fine scents they are, too. Wish I had the time…” Gwen reaches down and strokes fingers through my hair. “Have to make the time, soon. Up, serfs.”

We obey, rising to stand close together, hands clasped in front of us, eyes carefully cast down. “Your will, Muhmis?”

“Yannan, run along, there’s a good buck. Erin, finish getting dressed, so you won’t get a terminal blush going, and join us at the table.” Gwen and Alexis walk towards the large table on the other side of the room, and Yannan scrambles to gather his clothes together as I shrug into my tunic. I pause and catch him before he scampers out of the room, planting a solid kiss on his lips. “Thanks, friend.”

It’s his turn to blush. “Thanks, too…friend of mine.” He closes the door softly behind him and I hurry over to the table where the two Draka sit, talking quietly.

“Uhmas the Archon, Muhmis…” I hesitate, not sure if I should sit near them, or on the floor by Gwen’s legs, or where… Gwen makes a small gesture, and I sit opposite her, with Alexis sitting on my left at the head of the ironwood table. My God, I’m sitting at the top of the table, next to two Archons?? What in the world is going on?

Alexis looks me over slowly. “Got the blood redirected to your brain, now, little human?”

“Yes, Uhmas the Archon.” I meet his gaze, half-shocked at my impudence but not backing down, either. I’m too tired.

He raises an eyebrow, but refrains from correcting me. Something odd is going on here, I think to myself. I glance over to Gwen; she’s watching me, with a slightly amused look on her face. Her leaf-green eyes meet mine, and I seem to lose myself in them for a long moment. Shaking myself a little, I look away, over the rows of books lining the walls.

“We wanted to talk with you, Erin. I have to do something I’ve rarely done in my life.” Gwen stands, and my stomach lurches uneasily. She’s not selling or giving me to…oh, no, anything but that; he scares the living Jesus out of me. My hands begin to shake, and I fold them together in my lap. Gwen walks around her seated grandson, and stands in front of me.

“Look here, wench.” Her voice is cool, remote. I raise my eyes to her, silently pleading for some sort of reassurance. I don’t get any. Her eyes seem luminous, capturing me with their gaze, their power. Even Alexis doesn’t command this sort of presence, this unconscious assumption of command, of dominance, of control, I think. 

“M-m-muhmis…”

“I was wrong, Erin. I apologize. I made a mistake, you and Schalk DeLange tried to warn me, but I was foolish. I was…sentimental. A mistake.”

My jaw drops open.

Gwen cups my chin, closing my mouth, and strokes a finger across my lips. “You’ve proven yourself loyal to the Race, and loyal to me. I appreciate that. Rolf was apparently playing some sort of little political game of his own, hoping to set Alexis and I against each other. We are against each other politically, a lot of the time. But he forgot one thing.”

I swallow, willing my heart to slow down and try to beat only 300 times a minute instead of what feels like one thousand times a minute. Muhmis’ voice lowers into a growl, the threat behind the sound quite clear.

“He forgot one thing.” She looks away, eyes narrowing, and is quiet for a moment, except for the growl that’s rumbling from deep inside her chest. Her hand tightens on my chin, and I wince. “Hmm… sorry, didn’t mean to squeeze…” Gwen smiles down at me.

“What’d he forget, Muhmis?”

“Blood’s thicker than water.” She tilts my chin up, kissing me deeply. “As far apart as my grandson and I are politically, we’re still family. And we don’t appreciate anyone trying to play games with us like Rolf was trying to do…”

Alexis smiles, and I shiver. “Yes. But now Rolf is no longer a bother to either of us. And I wanted to thank you, Erin, as I thanked Schalk, for helping us figure out what was going on. You saved us from a lot of… trouble. As if we need any more right now.”

Gwen lets go of my chin, and I rub it; she forgot her strength there for a moment, and I wonder if I’ll have a bruise. The import of what these two Draka are telling me stuns me mentally, though. I mean, a personal apology from one Archon, and a thank-you from another, all in the space of five minutes… Gathering my thoughts with an almost physical effort, I murmur, “I live to serve, Uhmas, Muhmis…”

Returning to her seat across the table from me, Gwen smiles again. “You do more than just serve, Erin, and you know that. You’ve earned your place, a very unique one indeed, among humans serving the Race.”

“Indeed,” nods Alexis. “And we have more work for you, Erin. Delegate your remaining tasks, and meet us on the bridge of the DEFS Merlin in thirty minutes, with any belongings you may want to bring with you. You’re going to war, at your Muhmis’ side. An honor never before granted to a human, I might add, since the Final War.”

My face must show my confusion. “But…”

“Other humans will follow their owners into battle now, but you’re the first ordered there, by my decree. Serve well, as well as you have in the past, and you’ll leave a legacy for other humans to emulate. You’ll be entered onto the roll of the ship as an aide, not just as a serf. You’re a Janissary now, my girl. Serve your Muhmis well.” He stands, and so does Gwen. I follow, more slowly.

A Janissary? Me? “Your will, Uhmas the Archon. I’m…honored.”

He chuckles. “More like stunned, but that’s all right. You’re not born and bred to enjoy warfare, are you?” Alexis leans closer to me. “Take care of my grandmother, wench. Or you’ll answer to me.” His eyes glint with amusement at his grandmother’s immediate reaction:

Gwen laughs. “Alexis, I don’t need anyone to ‘take care’ of me. Tantie-ma Marya did that, over 500 years ago. I think I can take care of myself, and then some. Come, Erin, let’s get the packing done and on-board.” She walks around the table, briefly hugging her grandson, and then takes me by the hand. “Time to go to war, my wench. Time indeed, to bring vengeance upon those who would try to take my universe from me.”

We walk from the room, Alexis following, still smiling at his joke. I feel detached, like I’ve stepped to one side of a stream in flood, and I’m watching everything go by me in a hurry. I focus on the warmth of Muhmis’ hand…the hand of my lover, the woman who just apologized to me, and told me without telling me that she’s broken-hearted now…the hand of the person who says she owns me, the tiny voice in my head whispers. I shake my head irritably, and squeeze the long-fingered, tanned hand in mine. Gwen gently returns the pressure, and we move down the hallway, into the unknown territory of the heart and universe.


End file.
